THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 SAMUEL CARSON & CO. 
 
 PUBLISHERS 
 
 Wholesale Booksellers ^Stationers 
 
 2O8 POST STREET 
 SAN FRANCISCO
 
 WOODLAND WOOING 
 
 ELEANOR PUTNAM 
 
 HOST ON 
 ROBERTS BROTHERS 
 
 1889
 
 Copyright, ISS J 
 BY ARLO BATKS 
 
 SUntfteraitn Threes 
 JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE
 
 TO 
 
 PROFESSOR GEORGE LEONARD VOSE.
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 i. 
 
 WHAT BETTY SAYS. 
 
 THERE were five heads in all, and I was tired 
 enough of looking down upon them. It was all 
 Bob s fault, and the longer I stayed there the 
 angrier I grew. No living boy can be so aggra 
 vating, anyway, as Bob Greenleaf when he tries, 
 and he generally tries. I had been staring 
 down upon those heads for quite two hours, 
 and only one who has tried it can have any idea 
 how stupid people can be when one sees only 
 the tops of their heads. There was Lucretia s 
 yellow head, as sleek as a canary bird s; Jo 
 sephine s bleached puffs and coils, " the nest of 
 a crazy rat," Bob calls it ; there was Theodore s
 
 8 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 head " running o er with curls," how I do 
 detest a curly-headed man ! and Theodore s 
 friend, with no more hair than a mouse, and 
 what little he did have gray; and, last of all, 
 there was Bobby s rough brown tousle. My 
 own hair is just like Bob s, .and I hate my own 
 hair. I almost hated Bobby too, just then, for 
 putting me in such a fix. 
 
 It all came about in this way. Bob wanted 
 his gun-case mended. Most boys mend their 
 own gun-cases, but Bob docs n t, and his gun- 
 case always seems to have a rip in it if I 
 happen to be planning a specially good time. 
 I was just starting for the horse-chestnut tree, 
 with " A Pair of Blue Eyes " and some early 
 sops-of-wines in my apron, when out bounced 
 Bob from the wood-shed and wanted me to 
 " just take a stitch " for him. Of course, I 
 told him I could n t stop, and, of course, he 
 said I was mean, and banged the wood-shed 
 door. I did n t mind, for I thought he d get
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 over it right away; but he played me a trick 
 that I won t forgive him for one while. To 
 sit there eating Aunt Jane s best pound-cake 
 and grinning while I was up in that miserable 
 tree, and not daring to move a finger for fear 
 somebody would look up and see me ! 
 
 I had only been up in my perch about half 
 an hour when Josephine Foster came through 
 the gate in the hedge, with her brother and 
 the New York friend who arrived the night be 
 fore. Bob was in the hammock, and Lucretia 
 was sewing on the piazza. I should have 
 thought they might have found other places 
 enough to take the callers, but no, they must 
 needs bring their chairs out under the horse- 
 chestnut, as if there were no other tree in the 
 yard. Bob knew I was up in the tree, and was 
 glad of it. He thought it was a joke : any silly 
 thing passes for a joke with Bob. Then, as if 
 things were not bad enough already, Bob had 
 to propose an out-of-doors tea.
 
 IO A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 Now Bob Greenleaf may deny it all he likes, 
 but of course he did that on purpose to be 
 disagreeable. He knew that they would be a 
 full hour over their tea, and he knew that I 
 should not dare to come down before them all. 
 I shall always be sure that Bob did it on 
 purpose. 
 
 I knew they would all agree, and they did. 
 Lucretia and Theodore and Bob set off for the 
 house after the tea things, and Josephine began 
 to entertain her visitors by an account of the 
 oddities and peculiarities of the Greenleaf family. 
 Josephine was always spiteful in a mild way. 
 She owned that Lucretia was pretty, but was 
 afraid that she was rather self-conscious. She 
 told the visitor whose name is Mr. Hamlin 
 that Aunt Jane was " good-hearted, but queer; " 
 that Father was a model of an eccentric old 
 village doctor; that Bob was dreadfully young 
 of his age, one of the sort of boys who ought 
 to be caged till he was twenty, I rather agreed
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 with her there, for the time ; and that he had 
 a twin sister, Betty, who was as bad as he, one 
 of the real old-fashioned hoydens who " set one s 
 teeth on edge, don t you know." 
 
 I did not at all agree with her there, and 
 I call it rather mean of Josephine to give a 
 stranger such a bad impression of me. Even 
 Aunt Jane admits that I have improved since 
 last summer, and Lucretia says that when my 
 hair is n t rough, and I have my pink lawn gown 
 on, I am really quite nice. Josephine never did 
 like me ; but she was checked in her description 
 of my charms by the appearance of a proces 
 sion from the house. First marched Bobby, 
 with a little table whose legs shut neatly under 
 it like a dead beetle s ; Lucretia came next 
 with a tray ; and Theodore followed with a pair 
 of willow baskets. 
 
 If there is one thing I like more than another, 
 it is a picnic of any size or kind, and Aunt 
 Jane is famous through the whole village for
 
 12 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 her cakes and dainties. Every instant I grew 
 hungrier, and every instant I grew angrier with 
 Bob, who sat down below cheerfully eating far 
 more jellied chicken than was at all polite of 
 him, and rejoicing in unlimited almond cake 
 and damson preserves. I abominate tea as a 
 general thing; but even tea seemed pleasant 
 and desirable as the fragrance rose to me 
 through the horse-chestnut branches. 
 
 How I did long to throw my book at Bob s 
 head, and startle the placid party lingering so 
 long and keeping me cramped and aching in 
 that hateful crotch ! 
 
 They finished their tea at last, and Harriet 
 Tuell came and marched away with the dishes, 
 but still Josephine showed no inclination to go. 
 The village boys began to pass the gate on the 
 way to drive home the cows. Tommy Hilborn 
 patted by on leathery brown feet, and was 
 stopped at the lane gate by Aunt Jane with a 
 basket of food for his mother.
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 Now the cows began to come home, cropping 
 along the roadside as they came. Then Father, 
 in his ramshackle old sulky, creaked up the 
 lane. 
 
 I was fairly giddy with sitting so long in that 
 abominable tree, and I could have shaken Jo 
 sephine until her teeth chattered for sitting 
 there and talking inanely about a young lady 
 she met at Newport who told her that she 
 looked like Nilsson. Nobody was paying the 
 least attention to her, and I longed to tell her 
 so. People never do pay much attention when 
 Josephine is talking. 
 
 The katydids were singing in the branches all 
 about me. I felt like a katydid myself, up there 
 among the big, damp leaves. I was tempted 
 to cry out " Bobby-did," in loud and startling 
 tones. 
 
 Old Ben Walton crossed the rough common 
 and clambered toilsomely up the wide church 
 steps. In a moment the bell rang out for
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 evening prayer-meeting, and Josephine at last 
 really rose to go. 
 
 " Mother will want to go to the vestry," she 
 said, " so I suppose we ought not to stay any 
 longer." 
 
 Even then they stopped to chatter at the 
 gate, but I did not mind that. My only thought 
 was to get down from that hateful tree. Bob 
 came slowly across the grass to help me down 
 and to jeer at me. I threw my book and 
 shawl at him and came scrabbling ungrace 
 fully down. I was giddy, chilly, hungry, and 
 cross. 
 
 " I 11 pay you up for this," said I, savagely. 
 " Don t think I 11 forget it. I shall just tell 
 Father, and see what he 11 say to your keeping 
 me up in that tree two mortal hours, you hateful 
 thing, you see if I don t." 
 
 " I don t know how you thought I knew you 
 were up there," said a strange voice with an 
 injured tone.
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 "I why, of course I thought you were 
 Bobby," I stammered, with my face ablaze. 
 
 " I am John Hamlin," said the voice, an 
 amused voice this time, " and I came back for 
 my walking-stick. Good evening, Miss Betty."
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING^ 
 
 II. 
 
 WHAT BOB SAYS. 
 
 OF course Betty had to plunge right into the 
 middle of things ; she always does. Everybody 
 knows that the preface comes first of all ; and 
 I was going to write the preface, but Betty had 
 to start right in and write her chapter without 
 saying a word to a fellow about it, so now the 
 preface has to come in here where it does n t 
 belong at all. 
 
 You see, we had always planned to write a 
 novel, only we could not agree about a plot. I 
 wanted an Indian story, and had no end of ex 
 citing hunts and fights to put in ; but Betty was 
 bound to have a Moorish romance called the 
 " Secret of the Alhambra," with a muff of a girl 
 named Zara, the Tearful, and heaps of minstrels 
 and dungeons and guitars and everything else
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 silly and romantic. So we could n t seem to 
 agree anyhow, and at last one morning we had 
 a downright fuss over it. I was mowing the 
 
 o <~ 
 
 lawn, and Betty was following me about, trying 
 to make me give in, and I stopped the lawn- 
 mower so often to talk to her that it w r as ten 
 o clock before I knew it, and I was late at my 
 lessons with Dr. Rice. 
 
 " There, Betty Grecnleaf," said I, " now you Ve 
 gone and made me late, and the Doctor 11 be 
 cross as snaps, and Father 11 blame me for not 
 finishing the lawn, when it is all your fault. 
 You may write your old novel about nothing 
 but love from beginning to end, for all I care. 
 I shall have nothing at all to do with it." 
 
 "All right, then, don t," said Betty; and I 
 flung into the house for my books and went off 
 without another word. 
 
 I took the short cut through the Fosters 
 orchard because I was late, and I found Mr. 
 Hamlin lying in a hammock reading and smok-
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 ing. He really is not a bad sort of person at 
 all ; does n t think he knows all creation, like 
 Ted Foster, but treats a fellow with some re 
 spect. I rather like him. He put his head 
 over the edge of the hammock as I came along, 
 and said that he d been fishing in a place I told 
 him of. 
 
 " I caught forty-five," said he, " but I wish 
 you d go with me to-morrow, and we ll try" it 
 farther up the brook. I ve a couple of rods, if 
 you d care to try one of the new sort." 
 
 Of course, you know, I was crazy to get hold 
 of one of those rods : they are regular stunners ; 
 but of course I was n t going to let him see it, 
 so I only said I would n t mind going if I waked 
 up in time. Then he asked me if my sister was 
 at home. I thought, of course, he meant Lu- 
 cretia, and I told him she had gone over to 
 Jonesport shopping with Aunt Jane. 
 
 " I meant the other," said he, " Miss Eliza 
 beth."
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. IC ; 
 
 " Oh," said I, rather crossly, " she s some 
 where about the yard ; and see here, her name 
 is Betty. Nobody 11 know who you re talking 
 about if you say Miss Elizabeth. " 
 
 Then I remembered how late I was, and off 
 I went. Of course, anybody can see that it 
 was n t my fault, but when I got home Betty 
 had to pounce on me like a thousand of brick. 
 She had finished mowing the lawn herself, and 
 I went to put the mower away in the barn, 
 thinking that she was right good-natured to do 
 
 *_> o o 
 
 it, when down she came from the hay-loft and 
 took my very breath away, pitching into me 
 about something that I never did at all. Betty 
 always did have that way with her. 
 
 "Now, Bob Greenleaf," said she, "you ve 
 been and done it again, and you know you did 
 it on purpose." 
 
 "Did what?" asked I, for I honestly had n t 
 the remotest idea what she meant. 
 
 " You know what," said she. " Don t pretend
 
 2O 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 to be so innocent, Bob Greenleaf. I 11 pay you 
 up, you see if I don t. First was that horrid 
 old tree, and now you go and send him to find 
 me mowing the lawn with Aunt Jane s old green 
 barege sun-bonnet on ! " 
 
 Of course I could n t help laughing, for Betty 
 does look like such an awful guy in Aunt Jane s 
 old green bonnet; but after all, I didn t know 
 she was mowing the lawn, and I m sure I was n t 
 to blame for the sun-bonnet. 
 
 " You know how I hate to be laughed at," 
 said Betty, almost crying, " and he was laughing 
 at me all the time ; I could see it, though he 
 was so dreadfully polite. That is rather hard 
 work for you, Miss Betty; won t you have an 
 assistant? Ugh! I hate him! " 
 
 Then all of a sudden she began to laugh, and 
 I joined in, and we both laughed, and then we 
 both felt better natured. I told Betty that she 
 was a trump to finish the lawn for me, and that 
 I d give in about the story.
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 21 
 
 " No," said she, " I Ve thought of a better 
 plan than that. We will start out on something 
 new. You see, Bobby, you 11 go off to college 
 in the fall, and this is our last summer of being 
 together quite in the old way; now let us write 
 a sort of journal, take turns writing chapters, 
 and tell everything that happens just as it comes 
 along. Of course it won t sound romantic, but 
 it will be good fun." ; 
 
 So that is how we settled it. Betty s will be 
 better than mine, because she always had more 
 of a knack at writing than I had. 
 
 This is the way we came to write the book, 
 but it is Betty s fault that the preface comes in 
 here, instead of where it belongs.
 
 22 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 III. 
 
 WHAT BETTY SAYS. 
 
 IT was raining in torrents and by bucketfuls, 
 in great gray sheets, and with sweeping gusts. 
 The orchard was drenched, the gutters were 
 overflowing, and all the spouts gushed like 
 fountains. The apple-trees writhed and strug 
 gled in the wind, and if one closed the eyes 
 it was far easier to make the time seem like 
 September than the August it was. 
 
 All day long it had been pouring in torrents, 
 and all day long I had been sewing with Aunt 
 Jane. By two o clock I could endure the mo 
 notony no longer; I felt that it was simply 
 impossible to look for five minutes more at 
 Aunt Jane s trim, placid figure and the seem 
 ingly endless yards of cambric she was hem 
 ming ; to hear for another second the " crick !
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 crick ! " of her rocking-chair as she swung mo 
 notonously to and fro. I was inwardly con 
 vinced that I should go quite mad if I stayed 
 to hear her say once more, as she had said every 
 ten minutes since breakfast, " Well, I declare, 
 it doesn t seem to hold up much, does it? 
 If it was September I should think this was 
 the Line storm." Once she had varied this to 
 ask Lucretia, " You don t think this could be 
 the Line storm, do you, Lucretia, dear, come 
 by mistake in August instead of September?" 
 To which Lucretia replied very placidly and 
 sweetly, " Oh, no, Aunt Jane." 
 
 Lucretia was \vorking a bunch of marvellous 
 rushes upon a square of gray linen. She was 
 the very picture of unruffled serenity. Lucretia 
 is not one of those easy and untidy mortals 
 who take advantage of a rainy day to indulge 
 in old gowns, horrible slippers, and general 
 untidiness. Were the sun shining in his bright 
 est splendor, Lucretia s attire could be no
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 neater, her pretty feet no daintier, her hair no 
 more satiny in its smoothness. 
 
 But I was this afternoon hardly less tired of 
 Lucretia than of Aunt Jane. I was weary of 
 her pink-and-white profile relieved against the 
 rain-splashed window-pane ; of the swinging 
 vase of coral in her ear; of her slender right 
 hand with its gold thimble and turquoise-and- 
 pearl ring. I was tired of the hateful day, and 
 I had kept quiet as long as my nature could 
 be made to submit to it. I jumped up sud 
 denly, with a start that nearly frightened Aunt 
 Jane out of her chair, and left the room in my 
 usual undignified manner. 
 
 Half an hour later I presented myself at the 
 door of the Snuggery, as we always have called 
 the room which serves Father as an office, and 
 which has been the general haunt of us all in 
 childish days. I had a basket of wood and 
 my apron full of apples, and these I expected 
 to commend me to the good graces of Bobby,
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 o 
 
 whom I found ensconced in one of the wide 
 window-seats, with his feet on a chair, studying 
 his Latin. 
 
 " Look, Bob," I said joyfully, " I Ve been 
 out in the orchard to the sops-of-wine trees. 
 I knew I should find a lot of apples shaken 
 down in this wind, and the grass was full of 
 them ; just see what beauties ! " 
 
 "Didn t you get wet through? " asked Bob, 
 helping himself from my offered apron. 
 
 " Just drenched ; but don t say anything 
 about it before Aunt Jane, or she 11 want to 
 dose me. Harriet has scolded me, and I Ve 
 changed my things ; so that is all over now. 
 I m going to make a regular Christmas fire." 
 
 "A very jolly idea," answered Bob, " only let 
 me make it. Your fires always fizzle, or else 
 they act as if they were possessed, and snap 
 over all creation." 
 
 " Sometimes they behave," I am compelled 
 by the spirit of self-defence to return, as I scat
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 myself on the rug and hand him the necessary 
 kindlings, the sticks of yellow birch, and the 
 great unctuous pine-cones. 
 
 I cannot dispute his statement with much 
 vehemence ; for it is quite true that though 
 my fires do generally manage to burn, they 
 have a frantic, foolish habit of hissing and 
 exploding, and sending unexpected showers of 
 sparks all about. But then neither Lucretia 
 nor Aunt Jane can induce a fire to blaze 
 decently, no matter what wealth of kindling 
 they expend upon it. Father and Bob build 
 great, hot-hearted fires that are superb to watch 
 and to hear roar up the wide chimney. 
 
 " There," remarked Bobby, with a just ap 
 preciation of his own work, " that is something 
 like a fire, Betty, and don t you think it is n t." 
 
 It was indeed a most glorious fire, and blazed 
 and roared right royally. Without the rain 
 still poured in gray, blinding sheets, but the 
 dear old Snuggery was so pleasant that I no
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 2 7 
 
 longer minded the rain. Bob and the fire 
 filled every dissatisfied longing of my heart. 
 I sat looking into the glowing core of the 
 great hearth-fire, and fell into a happy dream, 
 mooning, as Bob is accustomed to say. 
 
 Bob did not choose, however, to leave me 
 long to my sweet content. While he had 
 piled the fire, I had suspended six apples from 
 nails long ago driven for this purpose on the 
 under side of the mantelpiece ; and the deli 
 cious odor they gave out as they slowly twirled 
 around, growing plump and breaking out here 
 and there with little glistening bubbles, was 
 suggesting to me all sorts of tempting dishes 
 which were about to be served to me in the 
 character of Queen Elizabeth visiting Kenil- 
 worth, when Bob broke in upon the fancy with 
 a most ill-timed question. 
 
 " I say," he demanded, " you have n t fin 
 ished that book of Virgil, have you ? " 
 
 " No, Bobby."
 
 2 8 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 " But you promised Father 
 
 " It is vacation now. Don t bother, Bobby." 
 
 " But you were to begin in the Fall all 
 square, and you don t want it hanging over 
 you while we are camping out. You re fifty 
 lines or so " 
 
 " From vox inhcssit in faucibus" I finished 
 glibly. 
 
 " Oh, that s no landmark," returned Bob ; 
 " his everlasting old voice was forever inhcesit- 
 ing in faucibus. Anyway, you only lacked 
 about fifty lines of finishing. Why don t you 
 get your book and finish while I m plugging? 
 Then afterward we 11 play cribbage." 
 
 " All right," I said. " This only means that 
 you can t bear to see me comfortable while 
 you have to study; but I don t mind." 
 
 So I abandoned the banquets of Kenilworth, 
 brought my battered Cooper from the book 
 case, establishing myself on the rug with the 
 lexicon between Bobby and me; and for half
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 an hour the silence was seldom broken save 
 by the dash of the rain on the windows, the 
 pleasant snap of the fire, and the persuasive 
 gurgle of the apples as they twirled and roasted 
 on their strings. 
 
 " Just find the rules for scansion in the gram 
 mar, won t you, Betty?" Bob said at length. 
 " This line is all scanned out there as an ex 
 ample, and I want you to hold the book, and 
 hear me prove the scansion, so as to see if I 
 guess right." 
 
 The place being found, Bob contracted his 
 brows for a mighty effort, a preliminary the 
 necessity of which was but too apparent to me, 
 who never could learn how to scan, and could 
 not even see how anybody else could. 
 
 " Now there s a, long by authority," began 
 Bob. " O short before two vowels." 
 
 " No, before a diphthong." 
 
 "Well, o short before a diphthong; e long 
 by position."
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 " No, by authority." 
 
 " E long by authority ; a short by authority." 
 " No, Bob, by position." 
 11 A short by position; CB elided for euphony." 
 " Why, no, Bob ; it is n t elided here." 
 " Then I d like to know how in thunder you 
 scan it. I m sure I can t, it hitches so. Oh, 
 wait; it isn t elided. I see. O is long before 
 a final syllable." 
 
 " It is short here, Bobby, by authority." 
 " There now, by thunder ! " Bob burst out 
 explosively, " I d like to know if there s any 
 rhyme or reason in scansion, any way; and 
 what s the good of it. Now I gave a good 
 square guess at every vowel in that verse, and 
 not one man Jack of em all was right. I say 
 it s all blamed foolishness." 
 
 " It is no worse than translation," I re 
 turned. "Just listen to this stuff. I ve got 
 the rest of it, but I can t make head or tail 
 out of this."
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 "Well, what is it?" demanded Bob, with 
 the air of one to whom Fate has already done 
 its worst. 
 
 " Him likewise perchance furious alike im 
 pelling, and the spoils of the Egean deity what 
 soever by means of madness notwithstanding 
 to be about to be sacrificed. There, that is the 
 very best I can make out of it." 
 
 " Well," returns Bob, with brotherly candor, 
 "you are a muff. That s plain enough. Don t 
 you see, he also declared himself about to be 
 sacrificed, an offering to the insatiate Egean 
 deity; not caring to live moreover impelled by 
 furious madness, but ready alike to finish and be 
 forgotten. That is as easy as rolling off a log." 
 
 " Oh, of course, when you have been all over 
 it," was my rather ungrateful answer. 
 
 " Shy your Virgil over here," Bobby returns, 
 unmoved ; " and I 11 put up the books while 
 you get the cribbage-board." 
 
 And for the thousandth time we settled our 
 selves on the rug, with the cribbage-board on
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 the floor and a little foot-stool between us. I 
 wonder whether I shall ever be able to play 
 cribbage without feeling myself back in the 
 Snuggery, even though I should really be at 
 the ends of the earth ; and whether, too, I shall 
 ever be able to shake off the feeling that I am 
 going to be beaten, with the desperate resolve 
 not to be, which always comes over me when 
 Bob begins to deal the cards. Three times his 
 red pegs had covered the course, while my 
 white ones had not once got in sight even of 
 victory. He was growing most aggressively 
 cheerful, and I was becoming correspondingly 
 sober, with a tendency to be red in the face 
 and short in my tones, when a step was heard 
 from the hall. 
 
 " There s Lucretia," I had just time to say 
 fretfully, when her face appeared around the 
 corner of the door. 
 
 "Theodore has come," she announced; "and 
 Mr. Hamlin is with him." 
 
 " Oh, bother ! " was Bob s inhospitable com-
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 33 
 
 mcnt; "why could n t they stay at home such 
 a day as this?" 
 
 " Josephine is n t very smart," I added, re 
 lieving my vexation at being beaten on the 
 first thing that presented itself, " if she can t 
 entertain her own company. He seems to be 
 forever coming over here." 
 
 "Josephine has a bad headache. Won t you 
 come in, Betty? I wish you would; it looks 
 so for you always to keep away." 
 
 " How does it look ? " I began ; " I am 
 Bob Greenleaf, it is not your crib ! You call 
 it your crib all the time ! " 
 
 Lucretia sighed and withdrew, while Bob, 
 who could always prove that any deal w f as his, 
 proceeded to give me the worst hand that one 
 could imagine. And to complete my vexation, 
 a knave was turned on the cut. 
 
 "Two for his heels," called Bob, cheerfully; 
 " I shall have to take that queen out of the 
 crib. I put it there by mistake."
 
 34 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 " Bob," I cried hotly, " if you do I will not 
 play one minute longer." 
 
 And at this interesting moment the door 
 opened, and Lucretia, followed by Theodore 
 and Mr. Hamlin, came walking into the Snug 
 gery quite as if it was the place where company 
 was habitually received. 
 
 " It is so damp in the parlor," she explained, 
 " and the open fire here is so cheerful." 
 
 "Why, this is no end jolly," chimed in Ted. 
 "Quite like old times, isn t it, Lucretia?" 
 
 Bob and I exchanged inhospitable glances, 
 and without a word removed our places from 
 the rug to the window-seat, while Lucretia 
 busied herself in finding seats for her guests. 
 The mention of old times seemed to fire Ted, 
 and he rattled away with Lucretia; so that 
 Mr. Hamlin, being largely left out of the con 
 versation, had no choice but to turn to Bobby 
 and me for entertainment. He came and 
 looked over my shoulder, and when I said
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 35 
 
 rudely enough, "I wish you wouldn t; you 
 make me nervous ! " he only answered, as 
 coolly as possible, " You want to discard your 
 ten-spot." I did n t want to discard my ten- 
 spot, but somehow or other I meekly did it; 
 and the result was that I beat Bob at last. 
 After that I had to be more civil to him, and 
 I must say that he was entertaining. He told 
 a lot of stories, and he told them well ; so that 
 the first thing I knew, I was actually offering 
 him a share in our baked apples, which by this 
 time filled the Snuggery with a most appetizing 
 fragrance. Ted and Lucretia ate theirs by the 
 fire, while Bob and Mr. Hamlin and I had a 
 sort of tea-party in the wide window-seat; and 
 on the whole it was well that they came over 
 in the rain, for it was rather jolly, if Bob and 
 I were interrupted, and if Lucretia did say 
 afterward that she was ashamed of me when 
 she came in.
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 IV. 
 
 WHAT BOB SAYS. 
 
 IT is all very well for Betty to say it was 
 jolly to have Mr. Hamlin come, for she 
 would n t have beaten me till this time if he 
 had n t stood behind her and told her how 
 to play. She never says a word about the 
 sequence he put her up to. But I m sure I 
 don t care; I can beat her any time. Just 
 now I can t stop to write, though, for Fred 
 and I are going up to the Long Brook, and 
 he 11 be here in just about one half a 
 jiffy.
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 37 
 
 V. 
 
 WHAT HETTY SAYS. 
 
 I THRUST my head in at the door, and saw 
 Lucrctia twisting up the soft yellow plaits of her 
 hair before the cottage mirror on her dressing- 
 table. 
 
 "Theodore is coming up the walk," I said, 
 "and Mr. Hamlin. Isn t it good luck that 
 Josephine has a headache and can t go?" 
 
 " Why, Betty Grccnlcaf ! " Lucrctia exclaimed 
 reproachfully. 
 
 " Well," I returned, " I don t want her to be 
 ill, of course ; but you know yourself, Lucretia, 
 that five is a horrid number, and I should have 
 had to tag after, myself." 
 
 "Why don t you dress?" Lucrctia asked, 
 lightly shaking out her blue lawn gown.
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 " I can t tell what to wear," I answered dis 
 mally. " I had my pink muslin on yesterday, 
 you know, when Bobby and I were caught in 
 the thunder shower. Things always happen 
 somehow to my gowns. I don t see why they 
 never do to yours, Lucrctia." 
 
 " I am careful, I suppose," returned Lucrctia, 
 absently. 
 
 She was sorry my gown was ruined, but she 
 was very busy deciding whether to wear tiny 
 gold bells or pink coral roses in her ears. 
 
 "I suppose," I ventured, "that you couldn t 
 leave me at home, Lucretia?" 
 
 " Of course not," replied my sister. " Go out 
 to luncheon alone with two gentlemen ! Who 
 ever heard of such a thing?" She gave a final 
 flutter before the glass and turned. " It is a 
 pity your gray linen is so plain," she said ; " but 
 wear your cherry ribbons, and you won t look 
 very ugly." 
 
 With this consoling remark Lucrctia tripped
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 39 
 
 away, leaving me to rush through my toilet 
 and hasten downstairs with an unbecomingly 
 flushed face and the consciousness of being 
 badly dressed. As I reached the hall, Aunt 
 Jane beckoned me into the dining-room. On 
 the table were a basket of cakes and a tray of 
 tall glasses filled with pink shrub. 
 
 " It was the rule your Aunt Caroline sent 
 from Germany," began Aunt Jane in her irrele 
 vant way. " You know these are the little 
 almond biscuit. I want you to carry them in, 
 my face is so red from the oven." 
 
 "They will laugh," I said heartlessly; "I 
 am sure they w r ili laugh, Aunt Jane. You 
 know we are going to have luncheon at Mrs. 
 Sparhawk s." 
 
 " I do not think it is very nice of her," re 
 joined Aunt Jane, plaintively, " to try to change 
 everything in Arrowsic. Why should she dine 
 at seven o clock instead of one? Will you 
 carry in the tray, Elizabeth, or must I?"
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 Upon this, of course, I bore the cakes and 
 shrub into the parlor. Ted grinned broadly. 
 Lucretia looked apologetic, and Mr. Hamlin 
 positively aghast. He ate his almond cake, but 
 eyed his shrub dubiously. 
 
 " If you detest it," I said softly, with a glance 
 toward Theodore and Lucretia at the piano, 
 " if you detest it as Father docs, and you dare 
 not hurt Aunt Jane s feelings by leaving it, I 
 will pour it out of the window into the flower 
 ing currant bush." 
 
 He passed me his glass readily. 
 
 "I abhor it," he said; and as I emptied the 
 goblet from the window, he bestowed on me a 
 very friendly smile. 
 
 The delicacies being now disposed of, we left 
 the house; Lucretia and Theodore walking be 
 fore, Mr. Hamlin following perforce with me. 
 
 "Who are the Sparhawks, anyhow?" asked 
 Mr. Hamlin, rather crossly, striking with his 
 walking-stick at the red thistles which were
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 shiftlessly allowed to grow along the way. 
 " Everywhere I go I hear them quoted, men 
 tioned, and talked about. I saw Mrs. Sparhawk 
 once, but I Ve never seen her husband." 
 
 " Colonel Sparhawk," I explained, " is an 
 army officer retired on half-pay. I think he 
 has malaria. He wears a single eyeglass, and 
 snaps his cane and tells long stories about the 
 Peninsula. He is always in a great hurry, 
 though he never does anything but begin pic 
 tures which he never finishes." 
 
 " And Mrs. Sparhawk?" 
 
 " Well, Mrs. Sparhawk is cither an American 
 who pretends to be English, or an English 
 woman who pretends to be American. I can t 
 tell you about her. She is not like anybody 
 else." 
 
 " Is it an archery meeting? " 
 
 " Yes, only the whole Club does n t lunch 
 there. Mrs. Sparhawk was telling Lucretia 
 about her colored cook s frozen strawberries,
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 and so she invited us down to taste some, and 
 asked Ted to bring you." 
 
 " I did n t want to come," said Mr. Hamlin, 
 ungratefully; "I hate visiting." 
 
 " The children are funny," I suggested ; " you 
 may like them." 
 
 Lucretia turned a reproachful face upon me, 
 and at the same moment I heard a joyous 
 puffing at my side. 
 
 " Now, Betty Greenleaf," said Lucretia, ele 
 gantly, " you ve gone and brought that 
 dog." 
 
 " I did n t bring him," I said, doing my best 
 to look severely at the waggish brown eyes 
 which were raised to mine. " He followed us. 
 He knows he is doing wrong." 
 
 "Woof!" said Ned, experimentally, with his 
 eyes fixed on my face, and the suspicion of a 
 wag thrilling his tail. 
 
 " Go home ! " said Lucretia, in her most 
 judicial manner.
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 43 
 
 " Go home, sir ! " added Theodore, sharply. 
 Ted loves neither my dog nor me. 
 
 I added my commands to the others, but, to 
 confess a truth, Ned s strong point is not obedi 
 ence. He eyed me reproachfully for a moment, 
 then with a sudden leap pretended to regard 
 the whole affair as an enormous joke. He 
 " charged " an instant, made a sudden dash for 
 a wandering bit of paper, shook it violently, then 
 turned his eyes on me, as if he would like to 
 know why 1 did not laugh. As a matter of 
 course, I did laugh, whereupon Ned considered 
 his point gained, and, quite mad with delight, 
 tumbled over himself repeatedly as he rushed 
 ahead of us down the street. 
 
 The Sparhawks live in a very ornate cottage 
 set far back on an untidy lawn. The hedge is 
 ragged, and the stone-paved walk bordered with 
 a wild snarl of syringa bushes and Tartarean 
 honeysuckle. There were once elaborate flower 
 beds, shaped like crescents and diamonds ; but
 
 44 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 neglect has conquered the original intention, 
 and box, striped grass, and a shiftless vine 
 which Harriet calls " creeping Jinny," run riot 
 everywhere. 
 
 Doors and windows were all open, and gay 
 Italian awnings fluttered in the slight breeze. 
 Upstairs we heard a shrill voice singing, " Pull 
 for the Shore." Downstairs a piano was being 
 banged upon by some child. From round the 
 corner came a high confusion of cackling fowl, 
 shouting of children, and the regular " clucking " 
 boat of a spoon in a cooking bowl. On the ter 
 race, from which the grass is much worn, as if 
 by the frequent sliding down of children, a 
 gorgeous peacock stood with his tail spread. 
 The front door, though open, was inhospitably 
 barricaded by chairs turned down upon their 
 sides. A scarlet and gray parrot sat meditating 
 upon the balustrade post, and a small black boy 
 lay asleep on the floor, with his funny round 
 head in the full cjlare of the sunshine.
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 45 
 
 " There is no bell-knob," said Theodore, 
 looking helplessly about. 
 
 " No," replied Lucretia, " it was broken last 
 winter; but there ought to be a dinner-bell 
 about here somewhere. They kept one standing 
 on the piazza for visitors to use." 
 
 At the sound of our voices a small black girl, 
 with her wool standing up in a hundred little 
 horns, peeped from the parlor door and fled 
 wildly up the front stairs. Meantime, after 
 some hunting, Ted discovered the bell hidden 
 in the long grass and gave it a vigorous ring. 
 It produced no effect, however, for its sound 
 was drowned entirely, as around the corner of 
 the house came a procession consisting of Rod 
 ney Sparhawk, six years old ; Bevis, aged four; 
 a Newfoundland dog, and a minute gray kitten. 
 Rodney wore a trailing coat of his father s, and 
 a dangling sword scabbard. lie had hung a 
 tin steamer about his neck, upon which he 
 played a deafening tattoo with two iron spoons,
 
 4 6 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 and he walked backward, shouting : " Left ! 
 Left ! I left a good home when I left." His 
 regiment consisted only of Bevis, in exceedingly 
 brief white petticoats, long pink hose, a pair of 
 large brogans, and an old chapeau above his 
 pretty baby face and yellow curls. Bevis ap 
 peared to be trumpeter, beside constituting the 
 band, and alternately blew upon a small tin 
 horn and shouted : " Fourthcr July ! Fourther 
 July ! " with a volume of voice amazing from 
 so small a person. 
 
 At sight of our party the children paused, 
 and a moment of blissful silence ensued. Then 
 Bevis spoke, 
 
 " Tant dit in. Our tars are in the door. 
 Must n t touch. Doin to pay wiz em bime 
 by." 
 
 With this warning the procession again took 
 up its line of march, joyfully augmented by 
 Ned, uninvited but jovial, and with shouts of 
 "Left! Left!" and "Fourthcr July!" xvound
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 47 
 
 across the lawn, through a gap in the hedge, 
 and disappeared down the street. 
 
 In the hush which followed their departure, 
 an unctuous voice came from the direction of 
 the beating spoon, 
 
 " Si, got you rule out n some cook book, si, 
 I ll be boun , si. Jus wish ye could oncct 
 eat a rale chick n patty. Some o my puff paste 
 and chick n done up in cream, si ; I believe 
 ye d be a better Chris n ef ye could jus taste 
 one o my chick n patties, si. Thar, clar for t, 
 Mis Sparrock, I s jus that free with her, I 
 was so ! " 
 
 Laughter followed, a lady-like ripple and 
 an oily, rich chuckle, in the midst of which 
 Theodore again rang the dinner-bell. 
 
 " I suppose that is the children," a clear voice 
 said, " but you might just look, Aunt Judy." 
 
 At this a shining black face, under a gay 
 plaid turban, looked from a door at the end of 
 the hall.
 
 48 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 " Clar for t ! " exclaimed the owner, coming 
 briskly forward, with a jovial smile of welcome 
 which displayed her beautiful white teeth, " cf 
 t aint Miss Grcenleaf ! Tought t was likely 
 dem no- count chil n. Dere allus ringin de 
 bal." 
 
 She cleared away the chairs, and touched the 
 sleeping black boy on the rug with her foot. 
 
 " You, Sam," she said easily, " come off dat 
 flo , and go long bout you business. Don yer 
 stay yere no mo whar yer don b long at. 
 D yer min ? " 
 
 The boy, at her thrust, curled up like a touch- 
 me-not, and rolled softly away under the stairs, 
 while the old woman showed us into the parlor 
 and disappeared. 
 
 It was a long room, this parlor; indeed, there 
 were two rooms, divided by a curtain of faded 
 red velvet, and the polished, bare floors were 
 strewn with rugs of dull, soft tints. This was a 
 scandal to most of the good Arrowsic matrons,
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 49 
 
 who believed it better to dispense with a parlor 
 entirely, unless one was able to carpet it. The 
 four windows were wide open, and the lace 
 draperies hung outside as if somebody had in 
 tended to prepare the room for sweeping, and 
 abandoned the idea. On the centre-table was 
 a shallow bowl full of exquisite violets, a riding 
 whip, a pair of soiled white gauntlets, an open 
 copy of " Sintram " in the original, a sponge, 
 and a bonbonniere in the form of a silver slipper. 
 There were fine etchings on the sage-tinted walls ; 
 and everywhere, on chairs, tables, ottomans, and 
 all about the floor, leaning against the walls and 
 the chair-legs, were the Colonel s paintings in 
 fifty stages of incompletion. A palette occupied 
 the piano-stool ; the piano was decorated with 
 writing materials and half-emptied wine-glasses; 
 and on the hearth a small monkey sat, eating 
 cake and watching us with his little bright eyes. 
 
 Hardly a seat was unoccupied by books, fans, 
 or embroidery, so we stood about rather stupidly.
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 Lucretia tried to look politely unconscious, and 
 frowned terribly at Theodore, who was openly 
 entertained. Mr. Hamlin stood by a window, 
 and examined with much interest the name of 
 the man who sold him his straw hat. After a 
 season of silence, a voice called from an upstairs 
 window, 
 
 " Did anybody come, Aunt Judy? Here I 
 am, if you are looking for me." 
 
 Upon this, Aunt Judy issued from the carriage 
 house, crossed the lawn, came in the front door, 
 and puffed noisily upstairs. 
 
 " Clar for t ! " she exclaimed, "done been 
 ebberywhar to fine yer. Ben all tro de house 
 an de barns an dc garding. Rosalby, she s 
 done gone to hunt yc in dc strawb ry bed, an 
 Sam, he s done gone out to de hen-house. 
 Whar ye been hid to?" 
 
 "Why, I ran up the other stairs," was the 
 reply. 
 
 After this followed whisperings, some sup-
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 pressed laughter, and a good deal of running 
 to and fro. There was calling for " Almira," 
 and " little black Sam ; " there was a crash of 
 breaking china, and the excited barking of a 
 dog. After some time, Mrs. Sparhawk s voice 
 exclaimed, 
 
 " Good heavens ! Then I must have left it 
 downstairs. Run, Rosalba, and get it somehow, 
 before any of them see it. What? Why, so it 
 is. How stupid ! " 
 
 After this came a short silence, then the swish 
 of skirts on the bare oak stairs, and in came 
 Mrs. Sparhawk, perfectly dressed, perfectly 
 cordial, perfectly at her ease, and apparently 
 sublimely unconscious of the noisy house, the 
 untidy rooms, or the length of time she had 
 kept us waiting. 
 
 " How simply angelic of you all to come and 
 see me this morning ! " she exclaimed cordi 
 ally. " I have been absolutely dying of ennui. 
 I told the Colonel that if this direful stupidity
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 continued we should really have to be divorced 
 for the sake of variety. Three years I was 
 at Tehuantepec, Mr. Hamlin, and positively 
 it was not so dull as Arrowsic. There, at 
 least, the natives were forever killing one 
 another, and one was always on the qui vive 
 against centipedes. 1 
 
 Lucretia s formal, polite little greeting was 
 quite lost in this flow of words ; and Theodore 
 and Mr. Hamlin and I grinned inanely, and did 
 not attempt to speak. 
 
 " The Colonel and I endured each other 
 quite as long as we could," continued Mrs. 
 Sparhawk, airily, " and then he went down to 
 sketch the intervale meadows, and I was driven 
 to gossip with Aunt Judy. Do sit down, if 
 you can find enough empty chairs. Aunt 
 Judy ought really to have sent Rosalba in 
 to set things to rights. I dare say she may 
 have done so, but the child will always play 
 on the piano instead of dusting not that I
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 53 
 
 blame her. I d do the same myself, I m 
 sure." 
 
 Our hostess laughed cheerfully, put up her 
 eyeglass, which was always falling down, and 
 swept across the room, knocking over several 
 pictures and an Indian jug with her train. She 
 tilted up a low arm-chair and emptied it of a 
 tiny Spanish poodle who had entered the room 
 with her. 
 
 " Cherubino," she said, " you arc a nasty, sel 
 fish creature; did you know it, little beast?" 
 
 She sank into the velvet depths and continued 
 talking easily. 
 
 " Is it not strange that a dog will be so 
 intensely selfish? You may trust Cherubino 
 always to secure this chair for his nap, quite 
 the softest and easiest chair in the whole house, 
 I assure you, and yet this little pig will calmly 
 take it without a thought that another might 
 enjoy it as well as he. Ah, well ! One must 
 take them as they are created. I suppose one
 
 54 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 can t expect to find dogs with the finer feelings 
 of human beings, can one, Mr. Hamlin? " 
 
 By this time we had all succeeded in finding 
 seats, and Lucrctia and I had become shame 
 faced under the awful conviction that Mrs. Spar- 
 hawk had entirely forgotten that she had ever 
 invited us to come to luncheon. The injured 
 Cherubino was being forced to beg for choco 
 lates from the silver slipper, which he did 
 sulkily and without enthusiasm. Suddenly Mrs. 
 Sparhawk turned. 
 
 " You have come to luncheon," she said, 
 laughing. " Now do not think I entirely forgot 
 it, for that is not so ; but I talk so much that 
 you might think me volatile. The Colonel was 
 speaking of your coming at the breakfast table 
 this morning, positively, and Aunt Judy is 
 making chicken pate. Cherubino, you rascal, 
 don t stand so one-sided ! I declare, though, 
 I had forgotten that the Archery Club met here 
 this afternoon ! I do hope they 11 remember to
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 55 
 
 fetch a target. The children have quite de 
 stroyed ours, little vandals." 
 
 She boxed Cherubino s ears lightly, and lean 
 ing back in the chair, put on her glasses and 
 settled her white gown. 
 
 " I abominate archery," she declared. " It 
 murders one s wrist in such a manner, and then, 
 one never can hit the nasty target, one must 
 stand so far away; beside, does n t it strike you, 
 Mr. Hamlin, that they use very small targets in 
 Arrowsic? " 
 
 " Minute," agreed Mr. Hamlin, seriously. 
 " However, I think Miss Dudley and young 
 Grecnleaf would hit in any case ; and if you 
 will all pardon me, I should say the rest of 
 the Club would miss a target as large as a 
 cart-wheel." 
 
 " It is a nasty club," assented Mrs. Sparhawk. 
 " By the bye, Mr. Hamlin, I wonder of whom 
 you constantly remind me. I should say it was 
 somebody in China. I spent ten mortal years
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 in China, and your face somehow reminds me 
 of Hong-Kong." 
 
 Somebody once added up the years that Mrs. 
 Sparhawk had spent in various spots on the 
 globe, and found that, according to her own 
 confession, she must at present be between 
 eighty-five and ninety years of age. 
 
 " I have never been in China," began Mr. 
 Hamlin, with that feeling of vague foolishness 
 one always has when one s face is remarked 
 upon, when steps sounded on the piazza, and 
 Colonel Sparhawk, with his easel, tin color-box, 
 and white umbrella, came into the room. 
 
 He is a man of middle height, inclining 
 strongly to stoutness, of a florid complexion 
 and pompous bearing, but with a very affable 
 manner, a leaning toward gallantry, and a deep 
 voice, rather husky from good living, the 
 last person one would select for an invalid ; 
 yet his retirement was due to malarial fevers, 
 and he is popularly said to be dogged by a
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 57 
 
 gaunt and chilly bogy who only waits a bad 
 season or the like opportunity to pounce upon 
 him. 
 
 " This is delightful," he declared, as he greeted 
 us ; "a charming surprise. After all, surprises 
 are the spice of life." 
 
 Mrs. Sparhawk laughed and adjusted her 
 eyeglass. 
 
 "Now, my life," she said, "do not pretend 
 that we were not speaking of the pleasure at 
 breakfast, because you know \ve were ! " 
 
 " True, very true," briskly rejoined the Col 
 onel ; " most assuredly, herzliebchen, but I m 
 sure the young ladies will pardon the mistake 
 of an old soldier. I remember that one morning 
 when we were on the Isthmus, it was intensely 
 warm, not a breath stirring, and some of the 
 natives had " 
 
 " Not now, my own darling," interrupted Mrs. 
 Sparhawk, rising; "it just occurs to me that I 
 have been horribly remiss. These young ladies
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 have had no chance to lay aside their hats and 
 gloves. Really, liebchen, I shall throttle that 
 wretched monkey of yours if he continues to 
 glare at me in that offensive manner. He is 
 uncommonly nasty to-day." 
 
 " Always as you say, my own," said the 
 Colonel, as he gallantly held the door open for 
 us to pass out. 
 
 Mrs. Sparhawk deposited us in a big, sunny, 
 untidy chamber, where she left us with the in 
 formation that we should find the rouge in the 
 upper bureau drawer. Lucrctia turned upon 
 me with a horrified face. 
 
 " She thinks we paint ! " she exclaimed ; " and 
 she never expected us to luncheon. She had 
 forgotten all about it." 
 
 " She got over it nicely." 
 
 " I had the greatest mind to go home," said 
 Lucretia, tragically ; " only I did n t know what 
 to say, and I was afraid of making a bad matter 
 worse."
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 59 
 
 " Pooh ! " I replied unconcernedly, " why 
 should you care? She does n t. I don t mind 
 a bit." 
 
 "You are always getting into fixes," retorted 
 my sister, severely. " You are used to them, 
 and I am not. Where is the towel ? " 
 
 There was none to be found, but this was a 
 trifle ; and where one had ivory-backed brushes, 
 pink Sevres boxes, gold-topped perfume flasks, 
 and satin pincushions, how could one grumble 
 at an empty ewer, no pins, and a total lack of 
 towels ? 
 
 In the parlor we found Rodney and Bevis. 
 The regiment was disbanded, and they were 
 playing with the monkey and partaking of 
 rations of seed-cakes, of which they had a 
 wonderful supply. 
 
 " Bevis, my man," said the Colonel, who 
 adored his children, " come here and speak to 
 these charming young ladies. Let them see 
 you give the officers salute."
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 But alas for pretty Bevis ! He proved upon 
 closer inspection to be both dirty and tousled. 
 His yellow curls were in wild confusion, there 
 was a horrible blue bruise above one eye, and 
 a red gash on his left cheek. 
 
 " Why, Bevis ! " exclaimed the Colonel, with 
 solicitude, " you have hurt yourself badly. You 
 are a brave little man not to cry, but how did it 
 happen? Tell papa. My life, pardon me, but 
 will you look at Bevis?" 
 
 Mrs. Sparhawk was talking with Theodore 
 about Morris wall papers. She put up her 
 glasses and regarded Bevis for an instant with 
 a bored expression. She gave a little French 
 shrug. 
 
 " I see nothing the matter," she said, " ex 
 cept that his face is unconscionably dirty. 
 You may be quite certain, mon ami, that he 
 would cry if he were hurt. I never knew 
 him to restrain himself from mere motives of 
 delicacy."
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 " Pooh ! " sneered Rodney, somewhat envious 
 of the sensation that Bevis was making. " He 
 isn t hurted any tall. He s only a ninjun; 
 he painted hisself out o the little silver tubes 
 upstairs." 
 
 " But you look shockingly," declared the 
 Colonel. " I am really mortified that these 
 nice young ladies should see you. Come with 
 me, both of you. We must go at once and 
 find Almira;" and the gallant Colonel led his 
 dishevelled sons away. 
 
 Mrs. Sparhawk watched their departure with 
 the dispassionate mien of one having no manner 
 of personal interest in the affair. 
 
 "The poor Colonel," she said. "What a 
 bother children are, to be sure ! Did it ever 
 occur to you, Mr. Hamlin, that they are like 
 teeth? They begin to make trouble as soon 
 as they enter the world, and one is always 
 tormented by them until one is rid of them." 
 She opened and closed her fan, and then added
 
 62 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 swiftly: " Now do not think I am so inhuman 
 as to mean until they die ; of course I mean 
 until they are married." 
 
 At this moment the little black boy an 
 nounced that luncheon was ready, and Colonel 
 Sparhawk joined us. 
 
 The luncheon was quite as incongruous as 
 everything else in that singular household. 
 Delicate gold and lilac china and old India ware 
 were side by side with bits of ironstone. The 
 linen, though torn, was richly embroidered. 
 There was an epergne of Sevres where lovely 
 rosy cupids rioted among lilies and ferns. The 
 Colonel barbecued thin slices of ham upon a 
 silver blazer, the chicken pates were served in 
 tin dishes, the coffee pot had no handles and 
 very little nose. The cookery, however, was 
 marvellous. Not Harriet s choicest triumphs, 
 nor the most secret of Aunt Jane s ancestral 
 receipts, could equal that delicacy of seasoning, 
 those fine and mysterious flavors, that exquisite
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 and melting " turn " to which each dish was 
 brought. 
 
 About midway of the meal the door was 
 pushed open by Bevis, angelic in white and 
 azure, his curls like spun gold, and his rosy 
 little face cleared of its war paint. 
 
 " Comin to cat wid you," he announced 
 winsomely. 
 
 " Oh, no, you are not," replied his father. 
 " You will have your bread and milk as usual 
 in the nursery." 
 
 A small cloud crossed the placid heaven of 
 Bcvis s face. 
 
 "Bread an milt is nasty," urged he, sweetly; 
 " Bevis wants storbies, lots o storbics, an cakes 
 an tarts." 
 
 " Go away, Bevis," said the Colonel, briefly. 
 
 " Don t want to g \vay," smiled Bevis; "want 
 to come in an eat wid you." 
 
 " Bevis," demanded his father, " do you wish 
 me to take you to Almira?"
 
 6 4 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 Apparently Bevis did not, for he at once 
 began a hasty retreat, and catching his foot in a 
 rug, fell to the floor, where he lay howling 
 lustily. Instantly Mrs. Sparhawk looked up 
 from her strawberries and put down the sugar 
 sifter. She rose from the table and swept 
 tempest-like across the room to clasp the wail 
 ing Bevis in her arms. The Colonel became 
 conscience-stricken. 
 
 " My own love," said he, " has he really hurt 
 himself? What ails him ? " 
 
 She turned and faced her husband with the 
 air of a tragedy queen, her head thrown back 
 and the child close to her shoulder. 
 
 " Oh, nothing, Colonel Sparhawk," she ex 
 claimed vehemently; "a mere trifle, too light 
 to be even spoken of. Pray go on with your 
 luncheon. My child has fallen and killed him 
 self. He is dying; that is all. I see plainly 
 that it is not of the slightest consequence to 
 you."
 
 A WOODLAXD WOOING. 
 
 Thc Colonel looked half amused and half 
 distressed. 
 
 " I want to be to de tabul," sobbed the dying 
 Bevis. 
 
 " And so you shall, my licbling," said his 
 mother. 
 
 She established him at her side, and smoothed 
 out the peach-colored satin ribbons at her belt. 
 No May morning was ever blander than her 
 unruffled face. 
 
 " Now, why is it," smilingly demanded she, 
 regarding Mr. Hamlin over the blue jar of 
 Chinese sweetmeats she began serving, "why 
 is it that these cumquots remind me of you, just 
 as Hong-Kong seems to do?" 
 
 o o 
 
 " My heart," ventured the Colonel, " how 
 irrelevant you sometimes are ! " 
 
 " Limkin ! " exclaimed his wife, reproachfully. 
 
 " Limkin," the form into which the black cook 
 had corrupted liebcJicn, is one of Mrs. Spar- 
 
 hawk s many names for the Colonel. 
 
 5
 
 66 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 " Well, but are you not? " pursued the Colonel, 
 playfully. 
 
 " I don t suppose, limkin," said Mrs. Spar- 
 hawk, much aggrieved, " that you have the 
 slightest idea how much fault you find with me." 
 
 " My life," exclaimed the conscience-stricken 
 Colonel, " to find a fault in you would be 
 impossible." 
 
 " Then I wish you would not appear to do 
 so," pouted Mrs. Sparhawk. 
 
 " My own love," protested the Colonel, " on 
 my honor I never will again." 
 
 Matters being thus adjusted, Mrs. Sparhawk 
 went on serving the cumquots with a pair of 
 curious silver tongs, while Bevis beside her 
 revelled in berries and cream, as absolutely for 
 gotten by his mother as if he had slept for ages 
 in an Egyptian catacomb. 
 
 Very soon another step, Rodney s this time, 
 was heard in the hall, and Rodney s head was 
 thrust in at the door.
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING, 
 
 6 7 
 
 " I want to be to the table too," he said. 
 
 " You cannot come, you untidy child," said 
 his mother, eying him with strong disfavor. 
 
 " But you let Bevis," urged Rodney, with 
 vague ideas of justice seething in his childish 
 brain. 
 
 " Bevis is clean and lovely, and you are a 
 nasty little gypsy," said Mrs. Sparhawk. " Go 
 away at once, or I will tell Joe to run the lawn- 
 mower over you." 
 
 " If you do," replied the undaunted Rodney, 
 by no means behind his mother in the invention 
 of direful threats, " if you do I will turn into 
 a bear and chew off your head and all your 
 fingers. Then how 11 you feel?" 
 
 At this moment the black woman came in 
 with the ices. 
 
 " Don yer min , honey," she said, with unc 
 tuous sympathy ; " jes you come long o you 
 olc Aunt Judy an see wat she done made 
 yer."
 
 68 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 The fickle mind of Rodney being thus di 
 verted, he clattered briskly across the room and 
 disappeared. 
 
 " Really," laughed Mrs. Sparhawk, " I never 
 saw the equal of Aunt Judy. She has been 
 with me ever since Rodney was a baby, and 
 she is a faithful soul, but the way she spoils 
 those children is abominable. If she says no, 
 she does not mean no, and of course the boys 
 are aware of it. She has n t a shadow of firm 
 ness, not a shadow. No, Bevis, not another 
 berry to-day, not one." 
 
 " I had seven, five, free," pleaded Bevis, plain 
 tively. " I want a hunncrd." 
 
 " You have had already more than five 
 hundred, you little gourmand." 
 
 " Peese, pcese ! " said Bevis, holding out his 
 plate with both hands. 
 
 " Bevis," demanded his mother, " when I say 
 no, do I mean it ? " 
 
 "No," replied Bevis, boldly; "you say no,
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 6 9 
 
 and den you say don t hoover, and den I go 
 an do it." 
 
 Mrs. Sparhawk laughed heartily. 
 
 " What will that child say next?" she asked. 
 "Colonel, do give him some berries; he cer 
 tainly deserves them." 
 
 " When I lived in Baltimore," began Mr. 
 Hamlin, joining in the laugh, " I used to 
 know a 
 
 " Baltimore," interrupted Mrs. Sparhawk. 
 " There ! I know all about it now. Hong- 
 Kong and the cumquots and everything. It 
 is that Judge Hamlin. Limkin, don t you re 
 member that Judge Hamlin we met in Hong- 
 Kong? He was going round the world for 
 his health, or else he had ruined his health in 
 going round the world ; anyhow, he afterward 
 wrote a book on Eastern Jurisdiction/ and he 
 lives in Baltimore. Do you know him, Mr. 
 Hamlin ? "
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 " He is my uncle," replied Mr. Hamlin, 
 quietly. 
 
 Mrs. Sparhawk put on her glasses and re 
 garded the young man with a new interest. 
 
 " You look like him," she said ; " it is not 
 the name only which made me think of him. 
 We owe you even more than the hospitality 
 due to the ordinary visitor to Arrowsic. Your 
 uncle entertained us many times in his beau 
 tiful home in Baltimore." 
 
 She was rising from the table as she spoke. 
 The earliest of the archery arrivals was an 
 nounced, and she can hardly have caught the 
 reply of Mr. Hamlin, 
 
 " I shall be quite content to waive any honors 
 given me on my uncle s account. My own dues 
 as Mr. Foster s friend will content me," he said 
 rather stiffly.
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 VI. 
 
 WHAT BOB SAYS. 
 
 THE other day at Mrs. Sparhawk s I mean 
 when our Archery Club met there we made 
 a jolly old plan, if we can only put it through. 
 
 Our Archery Club is a queer affair anyway ; 
 and I did n t much blame Hamlin for laughing, 
 for some of the girls do shoot worse than words 
 can tell. Josephine Foster is so afraid of snap 
 ping her wrist that she acts like a perfect muff; 
 and Lucretia is rather afraid of her hands, too, 
 though she shoots exactly according to rules, 
 as she does everything else. Betty never hits 
 the target, though I never can just tell why, 
 and she always loses her arrows. Emily Dud 
 ley is the only girl who is much good at shoot 
 ing, and the men are not so much better than 
 the women. As for me, I can hit the gold
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 often enough ; but I never get any credit for it, 
 because I don t hold my bow according to rule. 
 Mr. Harris says he would rather hold his bow 
 correctly and never hit the target, than to hit 
 the gold and hold his bow as I do. 
 
 Well, that afternoon, you know, we seemed 
 to be shooting rather worse than usual; and 
 somebody Hamlin, I think it was happened 
 to say that it would be a bad look for us if 
 we had nothing to eat except what we could 
 shoot. Then some one else said that we 
 could shoot things enough if we were only off 
 in the woods ; and then Ted Foster said that 
 we might try the plan when we went up to 
 Sippican. 
 
 We have a Sippican party every season, and 
 sometimes we camp out for a whole month. 
 We have big water-proof tents, and we build a 
 stone fireplace. We find perch and blueberries 
 on the mountain as big as grapes at least, of 
 course, I mean the perch are in the pond.
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 73 
 
 Sippican is the Indian name for Clear Water; 
 and there s a pond and a mountain, and it s 
 the completest place to carnp out in that you 
 ever saw. You have no end of fun up there. 
 Sometimes it rains, and the tents leak, and the 
 fire won t burn, and you pretend you are cast 
 away on a desert island ; and you play all sorts 
 of pranks, and go trouting up the brook, and 
 have tableaux and tell stories in the evenings ; 
 and the days arc so short, and Lucretia is 
 shocked because you eat so much, and every 
 thing is just as jolly as it can be. 
 
 So this year we re going to try the new plan. 
 Of course it all began in fun, but most every 
 body has agreed to it, and it will be fun enough. 
 Aunt Jane is sure we shall starve; but Fred 
 Harris and I are sure that we can shoot squir 
 rels and quail and partridges enough for the 
 whole party there aren t any game laws at 
 Sippican. There used to be bears up there, 
 but I don t suppose you could scare one up
 
 74 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 now. I d just like to meet a bear, though ! 
 Would n t I just send an arrow ping through his 
 heart, and we d have bear-steaks for supper at 
 Camp Sippican ! 
 
 I was almost afraid that Father would n t let 
 me go, because I m studying for the fall ex 
 aminations; but Aunt Jane luckily took it into 
 her head that I looked pale though I know 
 it was only because the green blinds were shut 
 and Betty put in a good word for me. So 
 Father has given in, and I m going ; and if we 
 don t just have a famous time, then my name 
 is not Bob Grecnleaf !
 
 A WOODLAXD WOOING. 
 
 75 
 
 VII. 
 
 WHAT BETTY SAYS. 
 
 "THE shay is ready," said Harriet, " and the 
 young man is waitin ." 
 
 She folded her arms severely, and stood 
 watching me with the disapproving air which 
 seems to be the special attribute of old house 
 keeper-domestics who have known one from 
 childhood. 
 
 " No need to prink yourself out any great," 
 she remarked rather caustically ; " you won t 
 meet nobody but cattle, and as for the young 
 man, I don t think he s one of the sort to take 
 notice." 
 
 I made no direct reply, for whether Mr. John 
 Ilamlin " took notice " or not was of far less 
 consequence to me than the fact that Bob had 
 basely turned me over to a stranger, simply
 
 7 6 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 because he wanted to go off on one of his 
 innumerable fishing excursions with Fred 
 Harris. 
 
 " And for my part," continued Harriet, " if 
 it was necessary for your par to go flighting 
 off to Portland, it seems f you need n t go 
 rampaging about the country with strange 
 young men." 
 
 " That s Bob s fault," I returned, picking up 
 my gloves. " Father expected him to go ; 
 and as for Mr. Hamlin, I m sure it s kind of 
 him to be willing to drive me about with the 
 medicines that Father must send." 
 
 " Probably you 11 get em all mixed higgledy- 
 piggledy with your talkin ," sniffed Harriet, 
 following me down the shallow old stairs ; but 
 she was prevented from uttering further fore 
 bodings by reaching the open door, just outside 
 which was Judge Peters s loose-jointed ram 
 shackle chaise, drawn by the gaunt old sorrel 
 mare, " Jane Savage."
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 77 
 
 Mr. Hamlin with cheerful alacrity helped me 
 to a scat. 
 
 "Now we 11 see how a civil engineer can run 
 a medical expedition," he said. " Are we all 
 ready? " 
 
 We were, but apparently Jane Savage was 
 not. She was deeply engaged in gazing at 
 Harriet, who had just made a tumultuous ap 
 pearance at the door, a vision of long, waving 
 arms and nodding feather duster. She looked 
 like a fury, but she was only expelling the flies 
 which had feloniously entered. As soon as 
 the green door was closed, Jane Savage started 
 of her own free will, and taking her own pace, 
 presently left the village behind her. 
 
 At the foot of the hill a shallow, stony brook 
 crosses the road, and just beyond, nestling in a 
 little valley, is the group of poor houses known 
 as " Hungry Hollow." 
 
 " You know," announced Mr. Hamlin, " that 
 I depend upon you to direct me to the houses,
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 and to do the talking; I am only the parcel 
 delivery." 
 
 "Very well," I replied ; " first of all, then, we 
 stop at the third house on the right." 
 
 It was a dismal, dreary little house, standing 
 close upon the dusty road, and staring blankly 
 at us from shutterless windows. A barn much 
 larger than the house stood just across the road. 
 Everybody seemed to be away or asleep, ex 
 cept a child who was sitting on the sunken 
 door-step with her elbows on her knees, and 
 her sharp little chin in her hands. She was a 
 most aged and unchildish-looking child, with 
 hair bleached by the sun, and small blue eyes 
 which looked oddly light-colored when con 
 trasted with her tiny weather-beaten face. As 
 we stopped, she looked up dully, then let her 
 eyes fall, and resumed her occupation of scrap 
 ing the warm sand back and forth with her 
 bare feet. 
 
 " Isabel," I cried, " here is Eliza s sleeping
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING, 
 
 79 
 
 draught. Father had to go to Portland to-day, 
 but he will come over to-morrow." 
 
 The child neither raised her head nor stopped 
 moving her feet through the sand. 
 
 " Lizy don t want no mcd sin," she said; "she 
 wants some flowers." 
 
 "Some flowers?" I queried. 
 
 " I said flowers," said Isabel, rather sharply. 
 " Did n t ye hear?" 
 
 " You must not be so cross, Isabel," I said. 
 " If Eliza wants some flowers, I 11 send her a 
 bunch to-morrow." 
 
 " She don t want a bunch," said Isabel; " she 
 wants a cross an a wreath. She s goin to hev 
 a funril day after to-morrer, Lizy is, an she 
 wants a wreath an a cross like what Emma 
 Parker had to hern." 
 
 Shocked and quieted, we hesitated for some 
 thing to say; and, as I looked about, Isabel s 
 mother appeared from somewhere down the 
 road. She is curiously like Isabel, though tall
 
 8 O A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 and gaunt. Her hard, brown face under her 
 gingham bonnet worked and twisted a little as 
 she saw me, but she blinked her eyes and 
 closed her lips in a reliant, repressive way. 
 Her large-jointed, labor-stained hands clasped 
 and unclasped nervously. 
 
 "Yes," she said, "she s gone, Lizy is. You 
 can tell ycr par she went easy ; dropped off to 
 sleep and never woke up." 
 
 She stopped a moment to swallow a lump in 
 her throat, then she went on dully, 
 
 " Might ez wal die, I s pose, an done with it, 
 ez go pindlin along an suffcrin . No great use 
 in livin , fur as I see. Lizy, she s the seventh 
 I ve buried. Live to fifteen or sixteen, then 
 grow peaked an fade away an die. Don t 
 seem to be no real reason why they should 
 ever been born." 
 
 " Mrs. Hathaway," I cried, " don t talk in this 
 way ; you must not. Is there nothing I can do 
 to help you? "
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 8l 
 
 " No," she replied in her stiff, practical way, 
 " there aint nothin to do. The neighbors hev 
 been in to do for us, an he has writ a postal to 
 tell her Uncle Silas an Aunt Laviny to come 
 down to the funril." 
 
 Isabel on the door-step had raised her head. 
 
 " But we aint got no flowers," she said, with 
 dull persistence. 
 
 " You shall have all you want, Isabel," I said. 
 " I will send you a basket early to-morrow 
 morning." 
 
 The child s weird, elf-like face lighted up with 
 a look of positive pleasure ; but it was her 
 mother who spoke. 
 
 " I m sure, I m blecged to ye," she said ; 
 " you mean kind, I know. Lizy she always 
 talked a terrible sight about what a beautiful 
 funril Emma Parker hed. It was pooty, too. 
 I m sure you re very bleegin ." 
 
 With a stiff nod by way of farewell, she went 
 around the house. In silence Isabel followed
 
 82 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 her, and in silence too we rode on up the rise 
 and out of Hungry Hollow with its poverty and 
 sorrow and loss. 
 
 The landscape changed from sad to beau 
 tiful as we went on. Peace and plenty smiled 
 in the broad patches of corn-land where the 
 wind rustled the fresh, green ribbons and the 
 silk already burst from the close, sweet husks. 
 There were wide hay-fields too, where the sec 
 ond growth of grass was exquisite with tints of 
 amethyst and dull yellow, and dashes of red 
 sorrel. 
 
 " Do we stop at the next house ? " my com 
 panion asked at last. 
 
 " Not the white one," I answered, " the big 
 yellow one on the hill. We have to let down 
 the bars. This is the Tuell farm." 
 
 The bars being properly lowered, my com 
 panion led Jane Savage up the rocky ascend 
 ing pasture which formed the lawn of the Tucll 
 place.
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 " Hand me the pills and potions," said the 
 young man, cheerfully, " and I will carry them 
 in." 
 
 "You had better go round to the back door," 
 I mildly suggested. 
 
 "No, I shall not," he said stoutly; "I shall 
 give them one chance to open the sacred front 
 door." 
 
 He went up confidently through tansy and 
 " old-maids " to the green-painted door. There 
 was a fanlight above it, and a very good old 
 brass knocker, with which Mr. Hamlin pro 
 ceeded to wake the echoes within the house. 
 There was no response ; and for some seconds 
 we waited, studying the wreaths of gay flowers 
 upon the green paper curtains of the parlor 
 windows, and the pair of conch-shells a gift 
 of some seafaring relative which adorn the 
 little niches formed by the side-lights. The 
 bees hummed drowsily among the hollyhocks, 
 and from afar came the long-drawn " kark,
 
 8 4 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 kark, kar-ar-ark," of some unseen barn-yard 
 fowl. 
 
 "It -is no use, you see," I said triumphantly; 
 " you must try the other door." 
 
 The young man was persistent. He knocked 
 again. No sound but the hen and the bees. 
 Then he grew impatient and knocked clamor 
 ously. Then at length a step was heard within, 
 and a sharp voice exclaimed, 
 
 "Don t knock the door down. You 11 have to 
 go round the back way; this door don t open." 
 
 Mr. Hamlin refused to be properly humili 
 ated. He cast a stony glance at me, and pro 
 ceeded to the back door. This opened directly, 
 and a small, alert woman appeared. She had 
 a pinched, acid little face, and with her neat 
 cotton gown and closely pinned hair, had the 
 air of being clewed up, so to speak, against any 
 tempest of life. 
 
 " Wa} ? " she said with some asperity and a 
 rising accent
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 " I brought some medicine from Dr. Green- 
 leaf," said Mr. Hamlin, apologetically, and 
 added an account of the circumstances which 
 prevented Father from coming himself. 
 
 Mrs. Tuell took the bottle and examined the 
 label with some suspicion. 
 
 " What is your name ? " she demanded, " and 
 who s that scttin in the shay ? " 
 
 " My name is Hamlin," said the young man, 
 quite meekly, " and it is the Doctor s daugh 
 ter, Miss Greenleaf, with me." 
 
 " Oh," said Mrs. Tuell, half appeased, " t is, 
 is it ? Wai, doctor sent the drops ? " 
 
 " Yes," more meekly than ever. 
 
 " Betty," she called, raising her voice to 
 address me, " tell yer par that the baby s come 
 out wal with the red goom. Cathrine she s 
 worried about it, but I tell her all strong chil 
 dren hev it. You tell yer par." 
 
 With this she abruptly darted into the house, 
 banging the door energetically behind her, but
 
 86 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 as we were turning the carriage about she 
 reopened the door. 
 
 " Be sure ye put the bars up," she cried, " or 
 Durgin s sheep will be trapesin in." 
 
 She once more vanished, and we rolled 
 slowly down the slope to the road, not for 
 getting to put up the bars. 
 
 " What a truly horrible woman ! " exclaimed 
 Mr. Hamlin, devoutly, as we once more jogged 
 upon our way. " Is her husband dead ? " 
 
 " Oh, no," I answered, " did n t you see him 
 peeping out from behind the wood-house? He 
 is a very good man, and so afraid of his wife 
 that he dares not call his soul his own." 
 
 " I don t wonder," said Mr. Hamlin, fervently. 
 
 He seemed really to be quite depressed, as 
 though he still felt Mrs. Tuell s snapping eyes 
 upon him. He became so noticeably lax in 
 his hold on the reins that Jane Savage decided 
 to try a little browsing, and turned suggestively 
 toward the ditch. Recalled by a sudden tight-
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 ening of the rein, she threw a reproachful glance 
 over her left shoulder and walked on with an 
 air of meek but injured dignity. 
 
 The old chaise swayed from side to side and 
 creaked drowsily. Little white and yellow but 
 terflies hovered over the mullcn and white yar 
 row. Where the sandy road was hottest the 
 cicadas were uttering their seething song, and 
 now and again we passed the hay-fields, where 
 the mowers stopped work to look at us, and 
 wiped their scythes on wisps of freshly cut 
 grass. It was past eleven o clock when we 
 stopped at the home of Deacon Asa Jewett, 
 whose daughter Lucilla was bed-ridden and 
 helpless from a spinal trouble. The Jewett 
 house was a red painted cottage with large low 
 chimneys and an ample, rambling wing. There 
 was no front yard. An ancient lilac-tree grew 
 on either side of the door. On the left side 
 was the kitchen garden ; on the right a shady 
 old orchard with a row of bee-hives on a
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 wooden bench. A great butternut-tree shaded 
 the house on the orchard end. A rusty tea 
 kettle hung with apparent irrelevance to one 
 of its lower branches, but the cord attached to 
 it explained its connection with the grindstone 
 standing below. Outside the wall, but still in 
 the grateful shade of the butternut, an old man 
 was sitting on a chair which had lost its back. 
 He was whittling, but he stopped as we drew 
 up, and without speaking gazed at us with 
 lack-lustre blue eyes. 
 
 " I have brought Lucilla s plasters, Deacon 
 Jewett," I said, as I stepped unassisted from the 
 low chaise. "I have some magazines for her; 
 shall I go right in? " 
 
 " Yas, yas," said the old man, rising and 
 coming forward. " I see now it s the doctor s 
 gel. Hardly knowed ye jest at first. Ye haint 
 ben round so frequent with doctor as ye used 
 ter. Who s that with ye in the shay?" 
 
 " It is Mr. Hamlin, from Baltimore. He is
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 8 9 
 
 visiting at the Fosters / I answered. " I will 
 run in myself with these things, shall I ? " 
 
 As I made my way to the side door a hoarse 
 voice said suddenly, " O Lord ! Lord ! Lord ! " 
 and then immediately broke into a peal of dis 
 cordant laughter. It was Mrs. Jewett s parrot, 
 a disreputable old bird who could swear many 
 a broad, mouth-filling oath in Spanish, but was 
 forced, by ignorance, to be almost respectable 
 in English. Like Mrs. Tucll s conch-shells, the 
 parrot was a sign that we were not far inland 
 after all. 
 
 " I m proper glad to see ye," said Mrs. Jew- 
 ett, appearing from the kitchen. " You come 
 right into Lucilla s room. She is so glad to 
 sec a bit of comp ny." 
 
 Lucilla was lying on a feather-bed, under a 
 " rising-sun " bccl-quilt which was a dream of 
 horrors in itself. The green paper curtains 
 were pulled up awry, and no window was open, 
 though Mrs. Jewett was a tender mother and
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 tried to make the invalid comfortable according 
 to her lights. 
 
 "She s ben expectin of your par all the 
 mornin ," Mrs. Jewett went on, with an affection 
 ate pat to the rising-sun quilt. " I do declare 
 she has nigh about wore me out, Lucilla has, 
 worryin me to look out o winder every minute 
 to see if doctor warn t comin ." 
 
 At this I repeated the story of Father s having 
 been called to Portland, and I only escaped a 
 severe cross-questioning about Mr. Hamlin by 
 presenting the magazines and a little parcel of 
 light work. 
 
 " Law, now," exclaimed Mrs. Jewett, admir 
 ingly, " do jest look at the silk pieces that she s 
 picked up for ye ! See this now, aint it turky- 
 ish, though ! I warrant now ye 11 want to be 
 bolstered right up, as soon as ye Ve hed your 
 broth, and begin to set your new quilt this very 
 day." 
 
 As I went out of the house, I saw Deacon
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 Jewett standing with one foot on the hub of a 
 wheel of the chaise. He was chewing a straw 
 and looking alternately at Mr. Hamlin and down 
 at his foot. 
 
 " I wish ye hed time," he was saying, " to 
 step over with me an jest take a look at it. I 
 cal lated to hev that lot preambulated this sum 
 mer, come what might." 
 
 " It would do you no good," returned Mr. 
 Hamlin, " for me to go down and look at the 
 land. I should have to see the deeds." 
 
 " Wai, now," said the deacon, slowly, " I tell 
 ye jest how t was. It was this way : I went 
 over to sec old Squar Bisbec, him as married 
 Woodman Puslifer s third darter, Lowizy, and 
 says I to him, Squar, says I, this ere lot hez 
 got to be preambulated, says I, no two ways 
 about it. Ef it haint, says I, an ef it can t be 
 done peaceable, why, all is, Lyman Dunlap and 
 me 11 hev to go to law about it, says I. Wai, 
 the squar he said that he never sot up to know
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 nothin about surveyin , but he d studied on it 
 a spell when he was to Litchfield Academy, an 
 he hed a compass thet belonged to his father, 
 old Squar Lemuel Bisbee, and so I says " 
 
 " Laws, Asa," interrupted Mrs. Jewett, who 
 had followed me out to the garden, and set 
 briskly to gathering beans, " don t you bother 
 the gentleman about that old story. Once get 
 you a talkin about your land tribulations an 
 you never have no idea where to stop." 
 
 " I sh d git through a considerable spell 
 sooner, Silviny," said the deacon, drily, " ef I s 
 allowed to say my say." 
 
 " Well, go on," said Mr. Hamlin, biting his 
 mustache. 
 
 "Madre! Madre! Madre!" cackled the parrot, 
 who had come to join in the conversation, and 
 was standing on the garden fence, 
 
 "Shet up, ye tarnal critter ! " said the old man, 
 sharply, to which the bird responded, " Lord ! 
 Lord ! Lord ! " and burst into a hoarse laugh.
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 93 
 
 "Wai," resumed the deacon, "as I was sayin , 
 I went over to the squar s and says I to him, 
 Squar/ says I, that lot hes got to be pre- 
 ambulated fust or last, says I, or Lyman Dun- 
 lap an me, we 11 hcv 
 
 " Law, father, you Ve said all that once a 
 ready," said Mrs. Jewctt, briskly. 
 
 " Ef you can explain this marter better than 
 what I can, Mis Jewctt," said the deacon, with 
 dignity, " I sh d be proud to hev ye do it." 
 
 " Oh, I don t pretend to it, father," replied 
 his wife, " I don t pretend to it. Only don t 
 go so fur round Robin Hood s barn, that s all 
 I meant." 
 
 " Wai," resumed the old man once more, " I 
 went over to Squar Bisbce an says I, This ere 
 lot hes got to be preambulatcd, says I, or 
 Lyman Dunlap an me 11 hcv to go to law. So 
 the squar he fetched his compass an chain 
 over one mornin an we got out a copy of the 
 deeds, an then we went down to the parster
 
 94 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 " Mother ! come to supper ! " interrupted the 
 parrot. " O Madre ! Madre ! " 
 
 " Shet up your tarnal squawkin ," said the 
 deacon, making a mock start toward the bird, 
 who immediately fell into extravagant peals of 
 hoarse laughter, and stepped off sideways along 
 the fence toward a black-cherry tree. 
 
 " So the squar he fetched over his compass 
 an chain one mornin an we went down to the 
 parster. The squar he sighted round a spell, 
 and says he, We 11 take the gable winder of 
 Widder Thayer s house and run direct to that, 
 says he. So he started and kep along pretty 
 free till all to once he come butt agin that big 
 rock-maple ye can jest see the top of. So there 
 the squar he sot off a few feet to the northered, 
 an then kep on an got Lias down to help him 
 and run a tol ablc straight line nigh to the mid 
 dle of the eend of old Lyman Dunlap s sheep 
 parster. Then old Lyme he come out, mad s a 
 hopper, an his son Chapman with him, the
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 95 
 
 one that went off to Arizony artervvards, an 
 got to be postmaster somewheres out there, an 
 died, an old Lyme he fetched along another 
 deed, an says he, You 11 get yourselves ink 
 trouble, says he, ef you keep on in this ere 
 direction, now I warn ye. So the squar, bein 
 a peaceable man, an not likin to make no fuss, 
 and I bein gone up to the house at the time to 
 fetch a hatchet, he sot back a matter o two 
 yards on tother side. Then Lias he follered it 
 out alone a spell, while squar, bein a very 
 commodatin 1 man, went up to help Chapman 
 Dunlap git a turnip out n a cow s throat. So I 
 says then to Lias, Now, Lias, says I 
 
 Just here a small horn was blown within the 
 house, and Mrs. Jewett s warm, red face was 
 turned triumphantly from the bean vines. 
 
 " There now, father," she said, " you 11 hev to 
 stop and let the gentleman alone. That s Lu- 
 cilla s horn, and it means that she wants her 
 par. She blows a horn for him, and rings a bell
 
 9 6 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 for me. Now, father, you know you never keep 
 Lucilla waitin ." 
 
 " Wai, wal," said the deacon, reluctantly, 
 " wal, wal, I s pose so. I 11 see ye when ye 
 come back along, and then mebbe ye 11 step 
 down an take a look at the lot." 
 
 " Perhaps," replied the young man ; and he 
 gave a sudden jerk to the reins which caused 
 Jane Savage to start down the hill at a most 
 unusual pace. 
 
 " What a tedious old numskull," laughed Mr. 
 Hamlin. 
 
 " Well," I rejoined severely, " you ought to 
 have known better than to let him know your 
 profession." 
 
 " But he asked me." 
 
 " Of course he asked you ; but if you are going 
 to tell these people all they ask you, you will 
 have to reveal all your deadliest secrets. Dea 
 con Jewett is nearly crazy with land quarrels." 
 
 " We will go home by some other way," said
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 97 
 
 the young man, decidedly; "I do not dare to 
 risk a second meeting with the deacon to-day." 
 
 " We shall be longer getting home," I ob 
 jected, " and it is nearly dinner time." 
 
 " If you are hungry you shall have some 
 raspberries," he replied; "but I shall absolutely 
 not risk Deacon Jewett again to-day." 
 
 Our way lay through lower and moister lands 
 now. We crossed a brook full of brown stones, 
 dark basins, and sunny shallows. At our left, in 
 the marshy meadow, the stream widened into a 
 placid pool. Blue pickerel-weed and yellow 
 beaver lilies grew here, and above them darted 
 the burnished dragon-flies, swift yet aimless. 
 Over the walls clambered the wild convolvulus, 
 with large pink-and-white bells. The wild 
 honeysuckle, white and frail, rilled the warm air 
 with its heavy fragrance. There is so much 
 sweetness in these low-lying meadows that it 
 was a real joy to come once more to higher 
 
 land; to drive through a delicious bit of beech- 
 
 7
 
 9 8 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 wood, where the scarlet fire-lilies flamed in the 
 hollows among the sturdy brakes. It was just 
 beyond the cool and pretty beech-wood that we 
 came to the old Butterfield house, our next and 
 last stopping-place. 
 
 There was no need here of alighting to let 
 down the bars, for they were already down, and 
 some cows and sheep were cropping the sorrel, 
 thistles, and " poverty weed " which formed the 
 chief part of the herbage. The house is of two 
 stories, square and unpainted. Its building was 
 evidently begun by somebody whose ambition 
 outran his wealth; for all the upper windows 
 were boarded up, and the front door, lacking 
 the usual flight of steps, had the appearance of 
 having been left stranded by some high tide, 
 half-way up the front wall of the house. There 
 had been an attempt to fence in a small front 
 yard from the vagrant sheep, but slats were few 
 in the unpainted paling, and the gate hung 
 loosely by one hinge. Within was a wild snarl
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 99 
 
 of cinnamon roses, tansy, butter-and-eggs, and 
 old maid s pinks. A shambling wing ran from 
 the left side of the house. The door was stand 
 ing open, allowing us to look across the kitchen, 
 through an opposite open door, to the sunny 
 hay-fields beyond. On the window-sill some 
 petunias and geraniums which should have 
 been long since put in beds pined in tomato- 
 cans and a couple of broken-nosed teapots. In 
 odd contrast to the shabby yard and shiftless 
 house was a smart silvered glass bell-knob at 
 the kitchen door. 
 
 " The front door is beyond argument this 
 time," remarked Mr. Hamlin ; and we made 
 our way to the side yard. 
 
 Stepping carefully over a rusty pan of meal 
 and water, in which a quarter-grown chicken 
 was wildly floundering, he pulled the bell-knob, 
 which immediately came out in his hand, bring 
 ing with it about a yard of wire, and sending 
 the young man violently staggering backward.
 
 IO Q A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 After recovering himself, he made another ven 
 ture and knocked. In response to this two 
 hens appeared from some distant part of the 
 kitchen and peered at us curiously as if demand 
 ing our business; then, finding us of no real 
 interest, they drifted away, apparently to resume 
 those domestic employments which our knock 
 had interrupted. Just as we were about to try 
 another knock, a woman was seen crossing the 
 blazing field beyond the opposite kitchen door. 
 She entered the kitchen panting and rubicund, 
 without at first noticing us. 
 
 " There now, shoo ! " she exclaimed, in a rich 
 voice and with a lenient manner; "just shoo, 
 will ye, shoo ! Who give you license to okkipy 
 the house? Mebby now, you d like to be arst 
 into the fore-room and hev a seat, would n t ye? 
 Shoo ! " 
 
 Preceded by a number of scuttling hens, she 
 came to the door and discovered her visitors. 
 
 " Sakes alive ! " she said, with a rich chuck-
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. IO i 
 
 ling laugh, " I did n t know there was nobody 
 to the door. Comin in out o the blaze so, my 
 eyes is sort o dazzled. Wai, now, I m real 
 pleased to see ye. I just ben cross lots to 
 borry some aigs of Mis Twitchell. Thought 
 I d stir up an aig pie for supper. Might think 
 we d hev aigs enough of our own to see the 
 hens, but fact is the weasels gets in an sucks 
 em. I told him he cl oughter mend up the 
 holes, but somehow he haint got round to it. 
 Now do come in an set down. Here I be 
 runnin on like old Rideout, an never puttin 
 on no manners at all." 
 
 " Thank you, we cannot stop," said Mr, Ham- 
 lin. " We have brought you some medicine 
 from Dr. Greenleaf." 
 
 " Oh, sure enough," said Mrs. Butterficld, 
 " and I m sure I m real bleeged to ye. T was 
 for Lowizy s back. The fact is, her cousin 
 Jeduthan Twitchell, he came along ter noon 
 in his old shay, and Lowizy she up an rid along
 
 IO 2 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 of him over to the Holler to hear the revivalist 
 speak. I cal late she 11 feel the need of her 
 medicine afore she gits home. Jeduthan s 
 colt s got a dreadful pudgicky gait." 
 
 " Here," said Mr. Hamlin, contritely, " is your 
 bell-knob. I m afraid that I broke it, though 
 I did not mean to pull it too hard." 
 
 " Oh, no," she returned reassuringly, " you 
 did n t break it. The children broke it, ringing 
 of it, the same day the lightning-rod man put 
 it in. For my part I was glad, too, when it 
 was finally broke, for such a din as they kep* 
 up with it you never did hear. I told him 
 though that he d oughter mend it, but somehow 
 he haint seemed to git round to it." 
 
 Mrs. Simeon Butterfield is an ample woman. 
 As she often declared herself: " There was n t 
 no skimpin when the Lord made me." She is 
 tall, long-limbed, broad-chested, and generously 
 cushioned with flesh, although she is not fat. 
 Not even her limp and loose-hanging calico
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 103 
 
 wrapper could conceal the really fine and Juno- 
 esque lines of her figure. Her hair, which is 
 abundant and of warm, new mahogany color, 
 has the true classic wave ; and her throat, which 
 is always collarless, is as white, round, and full 
 as if cut from marble. 
 
 " I wish ye would come in now," she still 
 urged. " I can give ye some nice maple-honey 
 that I Ve kep ever scnce March. Wai, o course 
 I don t want to urge ye, but you jest wait a 
 minute. You must take a box o bee-honey 
 along to your par. Sim ! " 
 
 She had removed her sun-bonnet, and in so 
 doing had brought her hair entirely down. She 
 was now twisting it up, holding her horn 
 " tucking comb " in her teeth for convenience 
 sake. 
 
 " That Sim Buttcrfield," she said, " is the 
 beatermost for bein out n the way when he s 
 wanted. I s pose he s down to the meddcr lot 
 now, sludgin round doin nothin ."
 
 104 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 She smiled placidly as she spoke, and did not 
 appear to cherish any animosity toward her 
 husband for his idleness. She disappeared for 
 a few moments, and presently returned and 
 brought to the carriage a gorgeous bunch of 
 peacock s feathers. 
 
 " I ben up in the shed chamber," she said 
 pantingly, " after that bee-honey, an I declare 
 to goodness ef every drop of et haint ben eat 
 up. I feel real mortified. You see the lock to 
 the cupboard was broke a spell ago, an he 
 haint got round yit to mendin of it, so I s pose 
 them young ones hev eat it up. Howsomever, 
 I found these feathers that I d put by for ye. 
 You remember our old peacock, Jim, don t ye? 
 You used to set such store by him when you 
 was little an used to come up with your par. 
 I alwers meant you should have the feathers 
 when Jim was done with em, an old Jim he 
 died last winter. Here ! shoo, ye old critter. 
 Don t ye "
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 105 
 
 Here Mrs. Buttcrfield started suddenly across 
 the yard to head a festive young heifer from the 
 corn-field, toward which she was wooed by a 
 tempting gap in the wall ; and Jane Savage at 
 the same moment concluded that the visit was 
 at an end, and started quietly down the pasture. 
 
 " Our round is ended now," I announced. 
 " Now that dreadful horse may go home again." 
 
 " It is a pity," he responded ; " I was getting 
 to feel quite like a country doctor. Do you 
 think I would make a good one?" 
 
 " No," I answered, with thoughtless quickness. 
 " You arc too obstinate, and would insist upon 
 going to the front doors." 
 
 " You are always ready to see the worst side 
 of me," he retorted gruffly. 
 
 And then he sulked all the way home.
 
 IO6 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 WHAT BETTY SAYS. 
 
 " LUCRETIA ! " I called shrilly, " Lucrctia ! " 
 
 Nobody answered. The tall clock ticked with 
 heavy solemnity. The flies buzzed and droned 
 on the warm, square patch of sunlight that lay 
 on the hall floor, and a little ruby-throated 
 humming-bird made whirring darts at the white 
 bells of Aunt Jane s abutilon, which stood in a 
 green tub on the piazza. 
 
 I turned to my companion, who stood leaning 
 against the side of the doorway. 
 
 " You see there is nobody at home," I said, 
 "just as I told you. Aunt Jane is gone to 
 carry wheat wafers and elderberry wine to 
 Mrs. Lovel, Lucrctia is making calls, and 
 Bobby has gone fishing, so there s nobody at 
 home."
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 Id/ 
 
 At the sound of my voice, and as if to dispute 
 the truth of what I said, Ned appeared at the 
 parlor door, and after standing a minute with 
 silky cars thrown forward and his lips apart, 
 showing his small white teeth, decided upon 
 the whole to be extravagantly glad to see Mr. 
 Hamlin, and accordingly pranced toward him 
 with a boisterous welcome which consisted 
 chiefly in pretending to eat him up. 
 
 " We might go to the orchard," I suggested, 
 when Ned s raptures had subsided. " I was 
 there when you rang the door-bell. It is cool 
 under the trees." 
 
 Mr. Hamlin. agreeing to this with the air of 
 its not making much difference what he did 
 as long as Lucretia was away, we went to the 
 orchard, with Ned tumbling along ahead of us, 
 now and then stopping to throw us a saucy 
 backward glance, and then starting again with 
 a sudden flounce which made his long cars fly 
 out like wings.
 
 I0 8 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 Mn Hamlin seated himself on the old bench 
 under the seek-no-further tree, and began to 
 sharpen a pencil. 
 
 " I m going to sketch your fine old well- 
 sweep, by your leave," said he. 
 
 Mr. Hamlin is very good-looking for so old 
 a man. He has a remarkably straight nose, 
 and honest eyes that look squarely at you 
 when he speaks. His hair is really grayer than 
 Father s, but it is cut so closely that you can 
 hardly see that he has any hair at all. Bob 
 and I like him very well. You seem to get 
 very friendly with a man who is attentive to 
 your sister. After I had finished looking at 
 Mr. Hamlin I turned my attention to the bees, 
 who were rejoicing in the warm afternoon and 
 the fields of clover. 
 
 "Why didn t you go fishing with Bob?" 
 asked Mr. Hamlin after a time, without looking 
 up from his sketching. 
 
 " Because he was going across the marsh and
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 would n t take me," I answered, teasing Ned by 
 pulling away the small green apple he was 
 guarding. 
 
 " Who did go with him Fred Harris? " 
 
 " Yes," I replied rather crossly, " Fred Harris. 
 Bob seems perfectly happy if he can only get 
 Fred Harris, and Fred always scares away the 
 fish." 
 
 Mr. Hamlin touched up his sketch and tipped 
 his head a little to look at it. 
 
 "You re not jealous of Fred, I suppose?" 
 he laughed. 
 
 " Why, of course not," said I ; "it is only that 
 I like to go with Bob, and I can t help feeling 
 that this is our last real boy-and-girl summer 
 together. Bobby goes to college in the fall, 
 you know, and things will never be the same 
 again. Lucretia is going away in the fall, 
 too ; she is invited to spend the winter in 
 Boston ; and Josephine and Ted will be in 
 New York. I shall be left all alone with dear 
 old Neddy."
 
 IIO A WOODLAND WOOIA T G. 
 
 " I shall be in Mexico," said Mr. Hamlin. 
 
 " Oh, why do you go so far? " I asked 
 bluntly. 
 
 " Honor calls, I must obey," he said ; " or 
 rather, a good salary calls, and I am a poor 
 man, so I fly to fill a position on the Mexico 
 and El Paso Railway." 
 
 " Bob and I are going to Mexico," I an 
 nounced, "after he graduates. We are going to 
 have a big hacienda. Do you know what a 
 hacienda is? " 
 
 " I think so." 
 
 " Well, we re going to have one, and I m 
 going to keep house for Bob, and he s going 
 to lasso wild horses, and I shall write a book 
 about the people." 
 
 " Perhaps you might take me to board," 
 suggested Mr. Hamlin. 
 
 " Perhaps we will if you are not married." 
 
 "Rooms to let to single gentlemen only?" 
 laughed he. " Well, all right I shall not be 
 married."
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 Ill 
 
 He said it quite positively; and it occurred to 
 me that this was a good chance to free my mind 
 of something that I wished to say regarding 
 Lucrctia. I could see plainly that Mr. Hamlin 
 was already rather fond of Lucrctia, though of 
 course he s old enough to be her father. I 
 might have been willing if he d been settled in 
 
 o c 
 
 New York, but I just wanted him to understand 
 that Lucrctia was far too dainty and pretty to 
 marry a man who would take her to Mexico. 
 
 " I am glad you are not going to marry," I 
 said abruptly. 
 
 "Why?" asked he, looking amused. 
 
 " Because," I answered, " it is so dreadfully 
 selfish for a man to ask a nice, pretty, accom 
 plished girl to leave her pleasant, civilized home, 
 and go off into the wilderness with him, where 
 she can t have anybody to speak to, and 
 Apaches scalp her, and howl about nights, and 
 everything is as horrid as it can be." 
 
 " It really is n t a very charming picture," he
 
 II2 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 said. "It is just as well, then, that I do not 
 think of marrying, is n t it? " 
 
 He must have spoiled his sketch, for he 
 twitched out the leaf he was drawing on, and 
 crumpled it up and gave it to Ned. 
 
 " Oh," I cried, " I wanted to see it." 
 
 " It was no good," he said. 
 
 Ned s disposition is such that he cannot 
 usually enjoy anything if he thinks he has a 
 right to do so, Mr. Hamlin pretended to try 
 to recover the paper; and the spaniel worried 
 and twitched at it and finally raced with it 
 around the corner of the house, whence he came 
 instantly tumbling back with Bevis Sparhawk. 
 
 Behind Bevis came his mother, under a huge 
 parasol of black lace and satin. 
 
 " I Ve been ringing at your nasty bell for 
 ages," she called out cheerfully. " Where is 
 your remarkable maid?" 
 
 She sat down in Father s steamer chair, closed 
 her sunshade, put up her eyeglasses, and began
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 to wave a beautiful fan of black ostrich plumes. 
 She was dressed entirely in black, thin, deli 
 cate black, unrelieved by any touch of color. 
 She looked very elegant, and made me all at 
 once conscious of being very young and having 
 a frowzly head and a tumbled gown. 
 
 " For my part," declared Mr. Hamlin, " I 
 don t believe they really have any maid. I 
 might be ringing there still if Miss Betty had 
 not heard me from some far-off hammock and 
 come to my rescue." 
 
 " Oh, yes," said Mrs. Sparhawk, seriously, 
 " they really have a maid, I assure you, and a 
 charmingly unique one, too; so delightfully 
 grim, a perfect martinet, and the way in which 
 she bullies the family is perfectly delicious." 
 
 " She came sixteen years ago when mother 
 died," I ventured. " Bobby and I were only 
 babies then, and she has done everything for 
 us, so she is almost like one of the family." 
 
 "Which means, you know," added Mrs. Spar- 
 8
 
 114 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 hawk, " that she dares to give her opinion upon 
 all occasions, and say quite as nasty things as 
 one s relatives would. She is not a servant at 
 all, you know, but a person of importance with 
 money in the Canal Bank and stock in the 
 Grand Trunk Railway, She always attires her 
 self in all her Sunday awfulness of array, and 
 takes a free ride to Portland on stockholders 
 day ! " 
 
 It is one of the curious things about Mrs. 
 Sparhawk that she always unconsciously takes 
 things into her own hands. I had thought that 
 I was doing very well at entertaining Mr. Ham- 
 lin, but now I suddenly found Mrs. Sparhawk 
 acting the part of the gracious hostess, while I 
 sat meekly by and allowed her to describe 
 Harriet, who had lived with us for years, and 
 whom she probably never saw more than half 
 a dozen times. I felt like a guest in our own 
 orchard, and a very unimportant guest at that. 
 
 " I m doin wis you, too," announced Bevis,
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 who had been for some time trying to get a 
 chance to speak. 
 
 " Now, Bevis Sparhawk," said his mother, 
 "didn t I tell you that you were not to talk? 
 That is why I abominate making visits with 
 children," she added, turning to Mr. Hamlin; 
 " they always want to talk, and one wants to do 
 the talking one s self, don t you know, and so of 
 course 
 
 " I m a doin wis you, too/ repeated Bevis, 
 shrilly, trying to drown his mother s voice ; " me 
 and Wodney, and little black Sam, and mammy 
 an an 
 
 " No, you will not, you tiresome child," said 
 Mrs. Sparhawk, " unless you behave yourself 
 and stop interrupting." 
 
 " You did it you sef," said the warlike Bevis ; 
 "you poke an poke when I was a- pcakin ." 
 
 " The truth is," said she, turning to us, and 
 ignoring her son s remark, "that is the very 
 reason that I called to-day. I wanted to ask
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 your father and your sister what they would 
 say to our taking the children." 
 
 "Where? To Sippican ! " I asked. 
 
 " Yes," she replied cheerfully, " to Sippican. 
 Now, pray do not credit me with making such 
 a diabolical plan ; it was all the Colonel, I assure 
 you. He positively adores those children, don t 
 you know. He absolutely cannot be happy 
 without them. Now, I am different. Of course, 
 I worship the children, simply idolize them, you 
 know; but then I m philosophical, and I can 
 endure life for a week or two without them; but 
 the Colonel is set upon their going." 
 
 " I think it would be very jolly indeed," said 
 Mr. Hamlin. " I dare say the change would be 
 for their health." 
 
 " Heavens ! " exclaimed Mrs. Sparhawk, de 
 voutly, " I hope not, I m sure. They are fright 
 fully healthy already, and they eat like a swarm 
 of grasshoppers. Seriously, I Ve had thoughts 
 of dosing them with sulphur, or making them
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 117 
 
 learn hymns, or something nasty, just to tone 
 down their spirits. Bevis Sparhawk, you cruel 
 child, stop pulling that poor dog s cars, or I 11 
 feed you on gunpowder." 
 
 " Then," returned the unmoved Bevis, strug 
 gling with Ned for a bit of bone, " I shall be a 
 gun, and dead you. I want sumpin to cat." 
 
 " How is your uncle s health now, Mr. Ham- 
 lin?" asked Mrs. Sparhawk, suddenly abandon 
 ing Bevis. " Me was such a delightful old 
 gentleman. They make one feel so young and 
 blooming, don t you know? Your uncle was 
 quite one of the old school." 
 
 It seemed to me somehow that Mr. Ilamlin 
 was not particularly interested in his uncle, and 
 it also seemed that Mrs. Sparhawk was so much 
 interested in him that I rather doubted her 
 having called about the children. Perhaps I 
 was suspicious, but I could not help fancying 
 that she had seen Mr. Ilamlin over the hedge 
 and had come in on purpose to talk to him.
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 " I want sumpin to eat," said Bevis once 
 more. 
 
 " No, you do not, you ill-bred child," said his 
 mother. " Does your uncle still keep bach 
 elor s hall in that exquisite house of his in 
 Baltimore? " 
 
 " I will have sumpin to eat," insisted Bevis. 
 
 " Bevis Sparhawk, you will not have one 
 crumb to eat. No, Miss Betty, thank you, not 
 a crumb. If you say one more word about it 
 I shall take you home and shut you up in the 
 rabbit hutch. I was at the Carrollton," con 
 tinued Mrs. Sparhawk, blandly, " and mamma 
 was with me. She was alarmingly ill, and 
 Oh, Miss Betty, if you would give that de 
 testable child a cake, I should adore you 
 forever." 
 
 Upon this Bevis and I departed for the house. 
 We found that Aunt Jane had returned from her 
 visit, and she was so delighted at a chance to 
 bestow dainties that she overwhelmed the joyous
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 Bcvis with seed-cakes and her choicest sugared 
 cherries. 
 
 Lucrctia came in, too, drawing off her pretty 
 pearl-gray gloves. 
 
 " I made nine calls," she said complacently. 
 
 " You must have had very good luck in find 
 ing them out," said I, enviously. 
 
 " I really think," fluttered Aunt Jane, " that 
 we ought to offer some refreshments. Lucretia, 
 go out to your company. Betty can stay and 
 help me." 
 
 After Mrs. Sparhawk and Mr. Hamlin had 
 partaken of pound cakes and Russian tea and 
 departed, Ned came rushing by me, trying to 
 make me take away from him a crumpled bit 
 of paper. It was all that was left of Mr. Ham 
 lin s sketch. If it was the well-sweep, it had a 
 hat on. If he was making a picture of Lucretia, 
 why could n t he have been honest about it, and 
 said so? I m sure I should have liked to sec 
 it myself.
 
 12Q A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 IX. 
 
 WHAT BOB SAYS. 
 
 I WAS over in the little north lot yesterday, 
 trying to find some squirrels or something else 
 to shoot. I was all alone. 
 
 It was about noon and blazing hot, and along 
 the walls, somewhere behind the blackberry 
 bushes, a quail was whistling " more wet." 
 Every time the quail whistled Ned would make 
 a crazy dash, barking loud enough to scare 
 away every bird in America. Betty has just 
 ruined Ned for a bird dog, anyway. Women 
 always spoil a dog. I had n t shot a thing the 
 whole morning, and was lying down under a 
 jolly big birch-tree to cool off and rest a bit 
 before starting for home, when all of a sudden 
 Ned jumped up, ran a few steps, stopped, threw 
 his ears forward, and said " Woof ! " The next
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 121 
 
 second I heard an awful howl, and running to 
 the open field found Rodney Sparhawk dancing 
 about like a young lunatic, and shrieking that 
 Bevis was drowned and " all dcaded." 
 
 "Where is he?" asked I, rushing for him. 
 
 " In the river all deaded up," said Rodney. 
 
 It isn t a river, it is only a shallow brook; 
 but sure enough, Bcvis Sparhawk was in it, 
 sitting on the stony bottom and howling away 
 like a young Pawnee. He was so sure he was 
 going to drown that he had n t tried to help 
 himself at all. I picked him out, and he said 
 he was sitting on a stone catching " minnies " 
 in the skirt of his dress, and Rodney had pushed 
 him in. Rodney said he did n t do it; that he 
 was only trying to get on the stone with Bevis. 
 Anyhow, the two little beggars were wet as 
 polliwogs, and had evidently run away; so I 
 raced them back home with me, and they were 
 nearly dry by the time we reached the village. 
 
 When we came to the house we found doors
 
 122 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 and windows wide open as usual, and Mrs. 
 Sparhawk was in the parlor, fainting away on 
 a sofa, or pretending to, and saying that her 
 darlings were dead, and she should never see 
 them again. The Colonel and the old darky 
 woman were fanning her and trying to brace 
 her up. 
 
 " I know my darlings have been stolen," said 
 she ; " I shall never sec them any more. Oh, my 
 darlings, my babies ! " 
 
 " Bevis was drownded, but he s a great deal 
 better now," said Rodney, bursting in. 
 
 " I taught a fiss for you, but his tail was so 
 slippy he swimmed away," said Bevis, shrilly. 
 
 Upon this they all made a rush for the chil 
 dren, and Mrs. Sparhawk sat up on her sofa. 
 Of course I was backing out myself, but I 
 heard what she said. 
 
 " You miserable little green baboons ! " cried 
 she, " how dared you run away and give me 
 such a fright ? I shall be ill from the shock,
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 123 
 
 I Vc no doubt. You deserve a thorough whip 
 ping, both of you, you nasty, untidy little 
 pirates. I m sure, Colonel, I hope you are 
 proud of your children now ! " 
 
 Just then unluckily she caught sight of me, 
 and so she said no end of silly things. 
 
 " You must stay and tell me all about it, 
 and have some coffee," said she ; and it was 
 no use for a fellow to say there was nothing 
 to tell, because she seemed to have made 
 her mind up to make me stay. She sent the 
 black woman off for coffee, and the children 
 off to bed ; but I think they only had dry 
 clothes on; at any rate, they were eating 
 cookies on the front steps when I went out a 
 little later. 
 
 Mrs. Sparhawk sat down and began to fan 
 herself. 
 
 " It is exactly like those nasty little apes to 
 go and drown themselves on a day when I am 
 expecting company," said she. " Limkin, I
 
 124 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 think you may give me a soupqon of cognac in 
 my coffee, my nerves are so shattered." 
 
 One good thing about Mrs. Sparhawk is that 
 she treats a fellow with some respect. She 
 does n t call me " Bobby " and act as if I d no 
 right to be about anyhow. 
 
 After the coffee came, the Colonel excused 
 himself and took his cup up in his studio ; and 
 Mrs. Sparhawk poured my cup twice as strong 
 as Aunt Jane ever gives it to me. There were 
 little crackers, too, and a crimson cheese that 
 Mrs. Sparhawk dug pieces out of with a little 
 silver spa de. She did put a spoonful of brandy 
 in her coffee, though she made fun of herself 
 for doing it, and said one learned bad tricks 
 in the army. 
 
 She was talking about fishing, and she asked 
 me if she did not see me one morning coming 
 back with Mr. Hamlin. So I told her " yes," 
 and how many we caught; and she seemed to 
 take a good deal of interest in Hamlin, and
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 125 
 
 asked me no end of questions about him ; but 
 of course I don t know much about him; so 
 then she began to tell me about her company, 
 a city girl that she has sent for. She said she 
 wanted us all to be very polite to her, but I 
 think myself it is too great a pity she s coming, 
 because we were just a nice party before. But 
 of course I did n t tell Mrs. Sparhawk so, and 
 after a while she let me go. 
 
 I can t write any more now because Fred is 
 standing outside throwing his baseball up at the 
 window, and he 11 plug it through a pane of 
 glass in a minute if I don t go and stop him.
 
 I2 6 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 X. 
 
 WHAT BETTY SAYS. 
 
 MY pretty Lucrctia came tripping down 
 the stairs, and stopped a minute at the parlor 
 door. 
 
 "Why, Betty Grecnleaf!" said she, " arc n t 
 you ready for Sabbath-school ? " 
 
 " She cannot go," said Aunt Jane, with plain 
 tive severity; "she must needs go to meddling 
 with Robert s tools and on a Sunday too 
 and she has cut her hand with the screw 
 driver." 
 
 " She was fixing a nail in her shoe," spoke 
 Bob, in friendly defence ; " but then she was a 
 gump to let the screw-driver slip, just like a 
 girl." 
 
 " At any rate I cannot go to Sunday-school, 
 Lucretia," said I, being at length allowed to
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 127 
 
 speak a word for myself. " You can sec that 
 I cannot get a glove on." 
 
 Lucretia s smooth white forehead drew itself 
 into a frown. 
 
 " I do hate to go alone, Betty," she said for 
 lornly; "I never like to go alone to Sunday- 
 school." 
 
 She looked very pretty in her crisp summer 
 bravery. She was dainty and exquisite from 
 bonnet to boot, and I could n t help hoping 
 that Mr. Hamlin might somehow chance to 
 sec her. 
 
 " You will be late, Lucretia, if you do not go 
 at once," said Aunt Jane; " Sister Buzzell went 
 by some time ago, and you know she is usually 
 tardy." 
 
 " Yes, I suppose I must go," said Lucretia, 
 dubiously. 
 
 She gathered up her pretty lilac muslin, un 
 furled her sun-umbrella, and reluctantly stepped 
 forth into the blazing afternoon. It was two
 
 I2 8 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 o clock. The house was so quiet that one could 
 hear the solemn tick of the entry timepiece and 
 the rustle of the pages of Bob s book. Father 
 was asleep on the old lounge in the front entry, 
 with a red bandanna laid over his face. Harriet 
 Tuell had gone to a baptism at Stony Brook. 
 Bob was reading " Scottish Chiefs " for the 
 fortieth time. He was lying face downward 
 upon the wide old couch ; his chin rested in 
 his hands, and his right foot dangled uncom 
 fortably to the floor. Aunt Jane sat by a south 
 window. She wore her best black gown be 
 cause it was Sunday, and she had a bunch of 
 her favorite mignonette in a glass on the sill 
 beside her. She was reading a little book 
 called "Why Am I a Universalist; " and she 
 looked, as she always does, very much like a 
 little white mouse that Bobby and I once had. j 
 Everybody seemed to be content and occupied 
 except myself. I was not sleepy, and I had 
 nothing 1 to read.
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 129 
 
 " I say, Betty," said Bob, " let up rapping 
 on the window, will you ? " 
 
 I stopped obediently. A humming-bird came 
 to call upon the white abutilon, and uttered 
 fine, fairy-like cries of rapture as it darted at 
 the golden-hearted bells. Ned appeared round 
 the corner quietly, and having deposited upon the 
 front steps a particularly disreputable shoe, 
 gazed at it a moment admiringly and departed 
 with a satisfied air of duty done. The sight of 
 the clog and the cheering sound of a little breeze 
 inspired me. 
 
 " Let s go to the old grave-yard, Bob," I 
 whispered, glancing toward Aunt Jane, who 
 had placidly gone to sleep without discovering 
 why she was a Universalist. 
 
 " Not now," replied Bob, rather crossly, " I m 
 reading. Get something to do, Betty, can t 
 you, and let a fellow alone." 
 
 Being snubbed by my chief all}-, I tiptoed 
 after my hat, called Ned, and started forth on
 
 130 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 the only correct and orthodox Sunday walk for 
 Arrowsic folk, that to the old grave-yard. 
 
 Down the village street we went together, 
 Ned walking sedately for the space of a mo 
 ment, then rushing ahead with wildly flying 
 ears, and stopping short to wait for me with 
 a look of irresistible waggishness. We went 
 through a gate, unpainted and rusty-hinged, 
 into a lane bordered by stone walls and rough 
 with grass-grown ruts ; then through an ancient 
 stile and into the sunny, peaceful precincts of 
 the old cemetery. Usually this is quite a 
 lively place of a Sunday afternoon, with rustic 
 lovers and pairs of chattering girls; but yester 
 day the superior attractions of the immersion 
 at Stony Brook had left the old grave-yard 
 empty, and Ned and I had it quite to ourselves 
 for a time. Ned settled down to a season of 
 solid enjoyment in chasing white and yellow 
 butterflies. I sat upon the dry, warm grass, 
 smoothed out my gown, folded my hands, and
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 enjoyed the sights and sounds of the lovely 
 summer afternoon. 
 
 After a time Ned grew tired and went to 
 sleep, with his muzzle resting on his silky 
 brown paws. I was almost asleep myself, I 
 think, the bees sounded so far away, when 
 somebody spoke behind me and made me 
 jump. 
 
 " Can you inform me how long an Arrowsic 
 Sunday usually is?" said a voice, and Mr. 
 Hamlin in a very nice gray suit came down 
 and faced me. 
 
 He held his cane in both hands horizontally 
 behind him, and looked good-natured but rather 
 tired. 
 
 " They are years long," I answered, " unless 
 Bob happens to be good-natured ; then they 
 are shorter." 
 
 "And if you happened not to have any 
 Bob?" he asked. 
 
 " Then I should die" I replied seriously.
 
 132 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 " People do not, unfortunately, find it so easy 
 to die," said he. " May I sit down? " 
 
 " Of course you can if you want to," I said, 
 not very politely, but he did not seem to mind. 
 
 He put down his cane and took off his round 
 straw hat. I always look at his hair with sur 
 prise, it is so gray. I did not realize that I was 
 staring very rudely until he looked up and asked 
 if his hair was in disorder. 
 
 " It could n t be," I said, laughing, " it is too 
 short. I was wondering how it could be so gray 
 when 
 
 " When I am so young and fair? " he finished 
 seriously. " My mother was white-haired at 
 seventeen." 
 
 " Mrs. Sparhawk," I volunteered, " had her 
 hair bleached in Paris. When she first came 
 here to live it was quite blond, like Lucrctia s." 
 
 " It must have been atrociously unbecoming." 
 
 " On the contrary, she looked well with it, 
 and she explained to every lady quite openly
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 133 
 
 how it was done. I like Mrs. Sparhawk, she is 
 so very amusing. We Arrowsic people are not 
 at all amusing. We are well-behaved and dull." 
 
 " Cannot one be well-behaved, then, and 
 amusing, too?" asked Mr. Hamlin, taking out 
 his sketching book, which seemed to be his 
 constant companion. 
 
 " I don t know," I said doubtfully ; " there is 
 Aunt Jane, and Harriet, though to be sure 
 Harriet is amusing, but she docs n t mean 
 to be. Mrs. Sparhawk means to be, and she 
 told Lucretia that she was interested in you 
 on account of your uncle." 
 
 Mr. Hamlin put on his glasses, which at once 
 transformed him from a pleasant and cheerful 
 young man to a supercilious and cynical person 
 ten years beyond his usual age. 
 
 " She makes a sad mistake," he said rather 
 gently, " if she adopts me on his account. She 
 would please him much better by sending me to 
 Coventry at once without delay."
 
 134 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 For some minutes he sat silent, drawing an 
 outline of the long range of the White Hills, 
 which loomed large and hazy against the sum 
 mer sky. Presently his face changed, and he 
 looked up with a cheerful smile. 
 
 " I don t know why I should care," he said, 
 " but somehow I do whenever I remember it. 
 Come, Miss Betty, shall I tell you the strange 
 history of the Boy who would not study 
 Greek ?" 
 
 " If you will," I answered ; " I am fond of 
 stories." 
 
 " This is rather a stupid one ; however, I 
 believe I will bore you with it. As Hans Ander 
 sen says, Now listen. There was once a good 
 little boy " 
 
 "Good?" I queried. 
 
 " Very good. Do not be sceptical, Miss 
 Betty, and do not interrupt. It is rude in the 
 extreme. There was once, then, a very good 
 little boy, who lived in a house in the city of
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 135 
 
 Baltimore, all alone with his widowed mother 
 and his uncle. The mother was a placid, gentle 
 little soul, who was fond of old lace, lived upon 
 macaroons, and painted butterflies on rice paper 
 for occupation. The uncle was a queer old 
 stick, rich, but irascible. Do you know what 
 irascible means? " 
 
 " Of course," I replied indignantly. 
 
 " Very well. The uncle, then, was rich, but 
 irascible, and was in the habit of blustering 
 about like the regulation old stage tyrant, and 
 boasting that he would be master in his own 
 house ; that his will was law, or words to that 
 effect. Well, the boy went to school, of course, 
 and was fitting for the classical course in the 
 college where his father had gone, and his uncle, 
 and all his grandfathers for generations back. 
 He had got as far in Latin as Anna virumque 
 cano] and was grubbing away sullenly at Greek 
 roots, when all of a sudden, one day, it popped 
 into his head that there was really no sort of
 
 136 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 reason in his wasting his time over anything 
 that he detested so cordially." 
 
 " He was a conceited little boy," I said de 
 cidedly, " to think that he could judge of what 
 he ought to study. I m glad you re not telling 
 this mutinous story to Bob." 
 
 " I will tell it to Bob if you interrupt me, Miss 
 Betty. Well, so the boy simply did not learn 
 any Greek lesson that day, and when he was 
 called up to recite, announced that he had 
 stopped studying Greek. The master, with 
 some interest, inquired when he had stopped, 
 and the boy replied, About half an hour ago. " 
 
 " What a horrid, impertinent boy ! " 
 
 " Now I shall tell Bob. However, the master 
 agreed with you, and, finding that his own re 
 marks did not make much impression, proceeded 
 to go and break the news to the uncle. Then 
 the uncle ranted about in gorgeous style, as 
 you may imagine ; for you see the trouble was 
 that, although the uncle was the boy s legal
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 137 
 
 guardian, there was a certain clause in the will 
 which directed that after he was fifteen years 
 old he should be allowed to choose his own 
 profession. You 11 never make a lawyer unless 
 you study Greek, sir ! said the uncle. The boy 
 replied that he did n t intend to be a lawyer, but 
 a civil engineer. At this time there was a worse 
 row than ever. Even the little mother joined 
 the charge, and cried, and asked the boy if 
 he wanted to disgrace the family and break 
 his mother s heart, and grow up and be hung. 
 There had been a lawyer in every generation, 
 and now he was going to break the line and 
 ruin his father s good name. But the boy was 
 a stubborn cub, and the upshot of the whole 
 thing was that the uncle flew into a white rage. 
 He was obliged to send the boy to an Institute 
 of Technology, but he never spoke to him again, 
 not even when the mother died ; and for six 
 years the two men have never met." 
 
 " How dreadful ! " I said, as Mr. Hamlin,
 
 138 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 having finished his tale, began to sharpen his 
 lead pencil. 
 
 " Not so very dreadful," he replied coolly. 
 " He is, to be sure, my only living relative, but 
 he is happy in his way, and I in mine. He has, 
 or thinks he has, the best collection of old 
 lacquer in the world ; and I have my profes 
 sion and some good friends; so what docs it 
 matter?" 
 
 " But he is your father s brother," I urged. 
 " I should go to see him sometime." 
 
 " And be accused, as I was once by letter, of 
 having an eye to his money. No, I thank you." 
 
 " I say," said a voice behind us, " Father is 
 called to the Hollow, and we re having an early 
 tea ; and you d better come home, Betty Green- 
 leaf, if you know when you re well off." 
 
 " Don t scold," laughed Mr. Hamlin, putting 
 away his sketch-book ; " we refuse to feel guilty. 
 Why, the sun is an hour above Mount Kearsage 
 yet."
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 139 
 
 XI. 
 
 WHAT BOB SAYS. 
 
 HERE \ve are, safe at Camp Sippican at last, 
 though I really began to think that we never 
 should get here. First, Bevis Sparhawk had the 
 mumps ; then Josephine s mother had to go to 
 Sweden to see her married daughter; and then, 
 just as we were all ready to start, it began to 
 rain cats and dogs, and never let up a minute 
 for a whole week. But at last it managed to 
 clear oft", and yesterday morning we really got 
 started. 
 
 There was Joel Jackson and the express 
 wagon, with the tents and Fred and me ; we 
 started first of all, for the rest kept forgetting 
 things and going back, and waiting for each 
 other, and behaving like a set of crazy coots gen 
 erally. The Fosters beach wagon took Hamlin
 
 140 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 and Lucretia and Ted, and Amos to drive the 
 horses back. Then the Dudleys came in their 
 chaise, and Emily squeezed in the middle of the 
 seat; and the Winthrop carryall had Mr. and 
 Mrs. Winthrop and Arthur and the young lady 
 that is visiting the Sparhawks, because the Spar- 
 hawk carriage was running over with Rodney 
 and Bevis. Betty came up with Father in his 
 old chaise. I thought they sort of left her out 
 in the cold ; but I suppose there was n t any 
 room for her in the Fosters wagon, and Betty 
 seemed to be as cheerful as ever, so I don t 
 know that it made any difference. 
 
 We got there first of all. Fred says that he s 
 always taken notice that horses go slower when 
 there are girls in the carriage, and I guess it is 
 true. At any rate, we got to Sippican a good 
 hour before any other carriage showed up 
 at all. 
 
 When you get to Sippican you see a hum- 
 mocky pasture at your left, and just beyond the
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 141 
 
 pasture the mountain begins. Then on the 
 right of the road is the camping ground, a 
 jolly big field with two or three apple-trees in 
 one end, wild fruit, you know, no good to eat, 
 and from the road this field runs down to 
 Sippican Pond. Sippican is an old Indian name, 
 you know, and means " Clear Water," and so 
 the mountain was named after the pond. You 
 could n t find a completer camping ground in 
 the whole country. For there is the pond, you 
 see, where you can catch jolly pickerel, and then 
 the other side of the mountain is a trout brook, 
 and there is an ice-cold spring in the woods 
 near by, and plenty of wood to burn, so you 
 could n t find a better place, anyhow. 
 
 Fred and I helped Joel put up the tents, and 
 of course the rest of the fellows worked when 
 they got along. We have good board floors 
 all ready to fit right together, and the tents 
 are none of your cheap affairs, but regular out- 
 and-out good ones. There are three big ones,
 
 142 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 and a smaller one that we call the galley, only 
 we don t cook in it unless it is a pouring 
 rain, because fish smell nicer cooked out of 
 doors. 
 
 A good deal depends on how you start, in 
 camping out ; and we know just how to fix our 
 tents. We make the floors good and even, and 
 we put up the tents as strong as they can be 
 fixed. Of course, though, we always go about 
 at night and see to them and pound down the 
 pins. They bring rugs for the floors, and ticks 
 all ready to be filled up at the Burnham farm 
 house with nice clean straw. We keep the 
 horses up there, too ; the ones that are n t sent 
 home, I mean. Of course we did n t get every 
 thing done last night, but we got all the tents 
 built. We have a kerosene stove, but I think 
 the regular camp-fire is jollier, and we always 
 have that lighted in the evening, anyway, for 
 company. Of course last night we had our 
 supper off the things we brought from home.
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 Mrs. \Vinthrop is head cook, and Mr. Winthrop 
 and Fred and I helped. 
 
 Mrs. Dudley and Emily and Betty set the 
 table. We had cold ham and bread and pickles 
 and doughnuts and cheese and apple-puffs and 
 hot baked potatoes and coffee, and a heap more 
 things ; and you can believe that first supper just 
 tasted good, though, with the fire blazing away, 
 and the loon crying over the water, and the cool 
 wind coming along the field, and Aunt Jane not 
 there to say that a fellow stuck his elbows out 
 when he cut his ham.
 
 144 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 XII. 
 WHAT BETTY SAYS. 
 
 WITH two pillows, a bag, a blanket, a pair of 
 rubbers, and a lantern, I crept uncomfortably 
 under the closed fly of a tent, inside of which 
 things certainly presented an appearance which 
 Harriet would have scornfully denounced as 
 " mixed an mingled." I had been sent for 
 various necessary and unnecessary articles to 
 the still unpacked trunks, which stood in the 
 dining-tent, and had now before me the task 
 of making my bed for the first night s rest at 
 Sippican. Lucretia, in a most becoming blue 
 dressing-gown, her flossy yellow hair all about 
 her shoulders, was sitting on the edge of her 
 straw bed putting up crimps in company with 
 Josephine Foster. Emily Dudley, who is the 
 most matter-of-fact and common-place of mor-
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 145 
 
 tals, was already soundly asleep. Mrs. Dudley, 
 whose hobby is to be always taking doses her 
 self and offering them to others, had put on a 
 plaid flannel dressing-gown, and above this a 
 jacket of quilted cashmere. 
 
 " Thank you very much for finding my rub 
 bers," she said, as I came in. " I do not dare 
 to go to sleep without them. They will draw 
 the soles of my feet, perhaps, but I dare not 
 risk the damp air striking my feet. The 
 boards of the floor are by no means properly 
 seasoned." 
 
 " Now I 11 tell you a story," announced a 
 cheerful voice from a distant corner : " Once 
 they was free child n, all black, and would n t 
 eat their suppers ; so the great big bear came 
 a roarin and a growlin , and wow I he eated 
 them all up but they bones, and he eated them 
 up too ! " 
 
 " Rodney Sparhawk, you tiresome child," 
 exclaimed Mrs. Sparhawk, " don t let me hear
 
 146 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 another word from you to-night. Do you 
 understand? " 
 
 " Then I 11 whisker, so you can t hear me," 
 said the unquenched Rodney. 
 
 " Don t want to be eated all up with a bear," 
 piped Bevis, dismally. 
 
 " There are no bears at all," said his mother, 
 " and Rodney is nasty to tell stories to frighten 
 you. Go to sleep, and hurry about it, or all 
 the sweet little dreams will fly away from your 
 bed." 
 
 " Do you see any now ? " queried Bevis, with 
 anxiety. 
 
 " Yes, a great many lovely ones." 
 
 " But I can t see them." 
 
 " That is because you do not wear glasses, 
 Now go to sleep this minute." 
 
 " All wight," replied Bevis, drowsily. 
 
 By this time Mrs. Dudley had put up her 
 curl papers and solemnly tied on a quilted 
 hood. Next she bound bits of scarlet flannel
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 about her wrists to guard against rheumatism. 
 
 o o 
 
 took two pills and a dose of some nauseous- 
 looking yellow mixture from a bottle, put out 
 her little safety-lamp, and finally retired. Silence 
 settled over the tent, and over the encampment. 
 Everybody was either asleep or trying to get 
 to sleep; but as for me, I was never more hope 
 lessly wide-awake. I tossed about on my straw 
 bed and changed my pillow from side to side. 
 The night air stole in under the tent, cool and 
 damp and sweet. Josephine Foster sneezed 
 unwarily. Instantly a match was scratched, the 
 safety-lamp glimmered in the darkness like a 
 little star, and Mrs. Dudley came across the tent. 
 
 " Open your mouth," she said, in a voice 
 which sounded deep and hollow in the silence. 
 
 No reply from Josephine, though I think 
 she was not asleep. Mrs. Dudley grasped her 
 shoulder firmly. 
 
 "Wake up," she said; "open your mouth and 
 take this."
 
 148 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 "Take what?" asked Josephine, sleepily. 
 
 " A quinine pill. You sneezed, and I think 
 there s probably malaria around. Or are you 
 having a chill ? " 
 
 "I am not," said Josephine, ungratefully. " I 
 am not the least bit chilly. I am too warm 
 under this great blanket." 
 
 " Then you must be feverish," said Mrs. 
 Dudley, triumphantly, " and that is a much 
 worse symptom." 
 
 " I have n t any symptoms at all, Mrs. Dud 
 ley," said Josephine, with sleepy rudeness, " and 
 I shall not take any medicine at all." 
 
 Upon this Mrs. Dudley retired to her couch 
 in injured silence, and sleep once more settled 
 upon all eyelids but my own. Some perverse 
 imp seemed to have taken upon himself the 
 special charge of keeping my eyes open and 
 my ears unnaturally alert. Once the floor 
 creaked strangely. Then there was little to 
 hear except the many chirping voices of the
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 149 
 
 insects of a summer night, merged into a sort 
 of out-door orchestra. I lay separating the 
 sounds. That was the tree-toad ; that the 
 cricket ; that the katydid ; those the whistles of 
 the frogs in the marshes; that "glug! chunck ! " 
 was some portly dweller among the sword reeds 
 and blue flag on the pond s border. In any 
 pause came the soft, hissing lap of the water, 
 running up over the tiny beach and then sliding 
 musically back again. Perhaps it was this 
 sound which first made me imagine I was 
 thirsty. It was only imagination, to begin with, 
 but once indulging, I found myself becoming 
 more miserable every minute. I thought of the 
 terrible pictures by Dore in Father s " Ancient 
 Mariner." I saw distinctly the ghastly faces, 
 the open mouths, the hideous protruding 
 tongues and eyeballs. I was growing quite 
 wild with nervousness and thirst, when some 
 thing happened which made me forget myself 
 and my discomfort completely. Just outside
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 the tent I heard a soft and stealthy footstep. 
 It was very deliberate, but it came nearer and 
 nearer every minute. It was most uncomfort 
 able to lie there listening to the sound, and to 
 feel that I was the only waking, hearing being 
 in the whole dark camp. In a moment some 
 thing touched the tent canvas and moved along 
 cautiously as if feeling for the door. Just then 
 a hand from Emily Dudley s bed grasped me. 
 
 " Do you hear that ? " whispered Emily, 
 hoarsely. 
 
 " Yes," I answered. " What do you think it 
 is? There used to be bears on Sippican. You 
 don t think" 
 
 " Of course not, silly," said the practical 
 Emily. " It is a tramp or something, and he 
 will rob the provision tent. I must manage to 
 go and call Father." 
 
 Just here came a stumble. Our tent quaked 
 wildly, and some heavy body fell to the ground 
 with violence.
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 " Oh, come now ! " exclaimed a masculine 
 voice, which ran unexpectedly into a squeak at 
 the end. 
 
 The feeling of utter relief was delightful. I 
 slipped on my rubber sandals, and wrapped in 
 my big gray blanket, hastened silently from the 
 tent. 
 
 "Oh, Bobby," I said, " is it you?" 
 
 "Of course," replied Bob, crossly, "who did 
 you think ? " 
 
 " What are you doing ? " 
 
 " Trying to be still, and not wake anybody 
 up." 
 
 " Did you tumble over a guy rope ? " I gig 
 gled delightedly. 
 
 " Of course I did," returned Bob, with some 
 sharpness, " but it does n t strike me as so 
 awfully funny as it seems to you. I am on my 
 way to the dining tent after a dipper." 
 
 " Oh, if you are going for water," I said joy 
 ously, all my thirst returning, " I will go too.
 
 152 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 I can find a glass or a dipper, or something, 
 because I put them away." 
 
 We made our way to the dining tent. As 
 I crept in under the -door I caught a curious 
 glow or flash on the floor, which at once dis 
 appeared. I stood still, with my heart pound 
 ing against my side. There was a tramp about 
 then, as Emily had thought, and he was here 
 in the tent, alone in the darkness with me. I 
 fortified myself by thinking of Bob, who was 
 waiting close outside. 
 
 " Who is here?" I demanded, in a feeble and 
 shaky voice. 
 
 After an instant of silence there was a little 
 click. The faint glow appeared again, and I 
 saw Miss Alexander, Mrs. Sparhawk s guest, 
 sitting upon the floor, with a tiny dark lantern 
 beside her. She looked unnaturally white, and 
 her large, pale-blue eyes shone like a cat s. 
 She had a dark cloak about her, and her wavy 
 red hair was tumbling over her shoulders.
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 "Arc you ill?" I asked. "I thought you 
 were in our tent asleep." 
 
 " I could not sleep," she said softly and 
 hurriedly. " I crept out and came here. I 
 must write a letter for Jackson to carry back 
 to-morrow. But no one must know. I am 
 sure I can trust you, Miss Betty; you will not 
 betray me? " 
 
 " I will not tell," I said stiffly, for I thought 
 she was silly, and that she was trying to make 
 a mystery out of a very simple matter. Of 
 course Mrs. Sparhawk would not have minded 
 her writing a letter. 
 
 "Oh, thank you," she said very earnestly; 
 " I thought I could trust you. I was sure I 
 could." 
 
 I made no answer, and by the time I had 
 found a mug she was busily writing by the pale 
 glow of her little lantern. 
 
 " What were you talking to yourself about, 
 Betty?" asked Bob, as I joined him.
 
 154 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 " I could n t find the glasses," I answered, 
 evasively, " and I was hunting about for them. 
 Ugh ! how cold the grass is ! " 
 
 It was cold and quite drenched with dew, and 
 I shivered a little as we stood on the tiny white 
 beach. The water of the pond looked black as 
 ink, and now and then we caught a faint splash 
 out on its sullen surface, from some leaping fish 
 or elfish water-sprite. Bob dipped a cupful of 
 the cool liquid, and impolitely drank first, be 
 fore dipping any for me. 
 
 " It tastes mighty froggy," he said critically, 
 
 I crept quietly back into the tent. I won 
 dered if Miss Alexander had come in before 
 me ; but I did not speculate much, for soon the 
 crickets ceased their chirping, my thoughts be 
 came dcliciously confused, and I slipped away 
 into a dreamless sleep.
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 155 
 
 XIII. 
 
 WHAT BOB SAYS. 
 
 I SAY that it comes hard on a fellow to be 
 everlastingly sitting down to write, when there 
 are so many better things to do. If you were a 
 girl it would n t matter, and Betty need not take 
 on airs just because her chapters are longer 
 than mine. She is n t a man, and it does n t 
 depend on her whether we have any meat for 
 dinner. 
 
 The ham and beef are all gone, you see, and 
 the tongue, too. So now we have got to shoot 
 our own dinners. It is against the law to buy 
 any meat. Fred and I went away up the brook 
 to-day and caught a jolly lot of trout. They 
 are sizzling away now, over the fire, and Betty 
 is peeling the potatoes. Mr. Dudley always 
 makes the coffee, and I can tell you it smells
 
 i 5 6 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 good enough. We shall have blueberries, too, 
 for supper, that we picked on the mountain to 
 day. After supper those that dare to, go row 
 ing in the punt; she leaks, but Fred and I are 
 going to patch her up. We can fix her, I think, 
 so that, at least, the water won t come in faster 
 than you can bail it out. There are water-lilies 
 over across the pond ; only the beaver lilies, 
 the yellow kind, grow on this side. 
 
 Supper is ready at last, so I can t write any 
 more.
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 157 
 
 XIV. 
 
 WHAT BETTY SAYS. 
 
 IN the high heat of a summer afternoon we 
 were toiling dismally up the rough side of Sippi- 
 can Mountain. The path wound among rocky 
 ledges and clumps of hemlock and blueberry. 
 There was no shade until one reached the ever 
 green belt, half-way to the summit. It was a 
 day of sickening heat, without a puff of wind, 
 and our party was rather silent as we languidly 
 trailed along in single file, " going to fish for 
 blueberries," as Bob wittily remarked. 
 
 " I am not going one single step farther," 
 announced Lucrctia, suddenly. 
 
 She sat down hopelessly on a cushion of crisp 
 gray moss, and took off her hat. Her face was 
 as pink as a wild rose ; and her hair, usually 
 knotted so closely, was loosened just enough
 
 I sj 8 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 to free a few pretty, soft locks about her neck 
 and face. Lucretia was only flushed enough 
 to look adorably pretty. I was conscious my 
 self of being most vulgarly crimson-faced and 
 blowzy. 
 
 "If you give up, Lucretia, then so shall I," 
 said Josephine, fretfully. " I wish I had stayed 
 at camp. I m sure I never should have 
 dreamed of coming, if I had known how warm. 
 it was." 
 
 She also sat down and removed her hat, Ted 
 and Colonel Sparhawk urged them to try to 
 reach the pines, and a sympathetic group gath 
 ered about them. Just before me Emily Dudley 
 plodded with an air of stolid endurance, and 
 ahead of her Mr. Hamlin was wandering on by 
 himself, looking very ill-natured. 
 
 " The only truly sensible members of the 
 camp are those who refused to come on this 
 direful scramble," said a voice behind, and 
 Arthur Winthrop joined me.
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 159 
 
 His round face was crimson with heat, and his 
 spectacles reflected the sunshine dazzlingly. 
 
 " I am looking for geodes," he announced 
 cheerfully, " garnet geodes. I have heard 
 they are found on Sippican, though I am bound 
 to say I never found one myself." 
 
 Arthur Winthrop is just out of college. He 
 is a painfully good and studious young man. 
 He always does what is expected of him, and 
 it is his mother s placid boast that "Arty" has 
 never caused her an hour s anxiety since he 
 was born. 
 
 " I have not devoted my whole time to 
 geology," he said, " for I have been cutting 
 alpenstocks for the young ladies. Here is 
 one for you. It will help you up the hill." 
 
 "Did you cut your initials on them all?" 
 I asked, as I accepted the gift. 
 
 " No," he replied, with kind patronage ; " that 
 was a special favor to you." 
 
 We had reached the pine belt by this time,
 
 WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 and were sitting down to rest in the shade. 
 Below us the rest of the party had abandoned 
 the intention of sitting forever on the blazing 
 hillside. They were toiling toward us silently 
 in single file, except that Theodore was helping 
 Lucretia. 
 
 " Come," said the relentless voice of Emily 
 Dudley above me, " if you stop at all, you 11 
 begin to realize how warm and tired you are. 
 Just keep right on, and you won t mind it half 
 so much." 
 
 Arthur Winthrop remonstrated, but I rose 
 obediently. 
 
 "We shall have no hot cakes for supper if 
 we do not get the berries," I said sordidly. 
 
 " I do not think of cakes at a time like this," 
 reproved my companion. 
 
 Nevertheless, I left him sitting on a bank of 
 moss, and keeping away the mosquitoes with a 
 brake, while I followed Emily and presently 
 emerged from the pines into the sunlight once
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 more. Here were the berries, however, cover 
 ing the bushes, growing in fat clusters, each 
 berry as large as a small grape, and covered 
 with lovely blue bloom. Mr. Ham! in had taken 
 his field-glass and disappeared. Emily and I 
 were apparently all alone on the top of Sippican 
 Mountain. Emily Dudley picked berries with 
 the steady, persistent method with which she 
 docs everything. She entirely cleared one bush 
 of fruit before leaving it, and never wandered 
 about for " thick places," as Bob and I do. 
 
 After a while I found myself out of sight of 
 Emily. It grew hotter and stiller on the moun 
 tain. I could no longer hear the voices of Ted 
 and Arthur singing "Lauriger" below in the 
 woods. Only the harsh cawing of a pair of 
 crows, sweeping about over their great nest in 
 a blasted pine-tree, broke the stillness. They, 
 too, became quiet, and I heard my own heavy 
 breathing and the rattle of the berries falling 
 into my tin pail.
 
 WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 Presently I remembered that Bob and Fred 
 were fishing at a pond somewhere beyond this 
 side of the mountain, and I became quite eager 
 to see the water. I wandered here and there 
 for different views. I did not find the pond, 
 which was not wholly strange, as I was con 
 stantly going lower instead of higher. I sat 
 down to rest presently, discouraged by the 
 distance I had come. One comes so much 
 more swiftly down a mountain than one can 
 climb up. I began to eat up my blueberries, 
 which were warm but luscious. High above 
 me, at my left, a grateful little cloud shadowed 
 the sun for a moment. From the same direc 
 tion came a shrill Swiss yodel, repeated several 
 times, and in a moment Mr. Hamlin appeared 
 and came down, stumbling and sliding over 
 stones and the smooth, dry grass. 
 
 " I have brought you an alpenstock," he 
 cried. 
 
 " I have one already," I said ungraciously,
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 163 
 
 as he came beside me. " I mean, of course, I 
 am much obliged, but you see Arthur Winthrop 
 gave me one." 
 
 Mr. Hamlin sat down on the crisp gray moss 
 beside me, and taking up my alpenstock, re 
 garded it a little scornfully. 
 
 " It is crooked," he said. 
 
 It was as straight as a dart, but I did not 
 defend it. 
 
 "Did you ask him to cut his initials on it?" 
 he asked. 
 
 " No," I replied meekly. 
 
 " Then what business had he to do it?" 
 
 " They are very good letters," I said critically. 
 
 " He might as well have made them all slant 
 the same way, while he was about it," observed 
 Mr. Hamlin. 
 
 " They do," I said half-heartedly, for I was 
 becoming dissatisfied with my stick. 
 
 " He might at least have smoothed the top 
 off a little better," went on my companion ;
 
 1 64 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 " however, if you have one, you don t want 
 another; " and he was about to fling his staff 
 away. 
 
 "Oh, don t!" I cried, "please do not. I 
 think I would rather have it. It I think 
 yours is straighten" 
 
 "Well, give me the other, then. You cannot 
 keep both. One must go." 
 
 Reluctantly, and fully aware of my own base 
 ness, I gave up poor Arthur s stick, with all its 
 careful carving, and saw it sent, with a sudden, 
 vigorous, masculine fling, far down the side of 
 the mountain. 
 
 " Oh," I cried, " I m so sorry it s gone ! " 
 
 Mr. Hamlin, who was busy cutting something 
 on the remaining stick, gave me a look of quiet 
 contempt. 
 
 " At least you are consistent," he said. 
 
 "Well," I ventured, after I had watched his 
 carving for a moment, " you are inconsistent 
 yourself. You thought it was impertinent for
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 Arthur Winthrop to make his initials without 
 asking me, and now you are doing the same 
 thing." 
 
 " That is entirely different," said Mr. Hamlin, 
 with dignity. 
 
 "What is different?" 
 
 " The initials are different." 
 
 After this idiotic dialogue we gazed at each 
 other a moment in silent disgust. Then we 
 both laughed ; after which we went down the 
 mountain to a big pine, where I sat down to 
 pin up the rents in my gown, and Mr. Hamlin 
 carved whatever he chose upon my staff. 
 
 " I felt a little breeze," remarked Mr. Hamlin, 
 intent upon his work. 
 
 I threw aside my hat, and a puff of cooler air 
 lifted the hair on my forehead. 
 
 " How still it is ! " I said. 
 
 The sun had gone behind a cloud, and the 
 odors of hemlock and sweet fern had grown 
 suddenly heavy.
 
 WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 " It s a relief to have " began Mr. Hamlin ; 
 then suddenly springing to his feet he ex 
 claimed, " Look at that cloud ! " 
 
 Over the shoulder of the mountain was rising 
 rapidly a cloud as dark as lead. The air be 
 came more breathless and oppressive than be 
 fore, and a curious listening hush fell upon 
 everything. In short, a heavy thunder-storm 
 was close upon us. 
 
 " Oh, what shall we do ? " I cried in great 
 dismay. " How stupid of us to come so far ! 
 We shall be drenched before we get back to 
 the top and down the other side." 
 
 " We must go down this side," Mr. Hamlin 
 decided promptly. " Give me your hand, Miss 
 Betty ; we must run for it." 
 
 Hand in hand, panting and breathless, we tore 
 wildly down the mountain pasture, over sticks 
 and stones, moss and rocky ledges, like a pair 
 who were fleeing from fate. Mr. Hamlin s field- 
 glass bumped against his hip as he ran, and my
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 i6 7 
 
 pail of berries swayed and swung. At every 
 step the berries bobbed over the brim, and like 
 Gretel, I left a trail behind me of scattered fruit. 
 The first warm, slow drops of rain were begin 
 ning to fall when we reached the foot of the 
 mountain; yet even here Mr. Hamlin would 
 not let me stop, but, gasping that he saw a 
 chimney, he hurried me across the pasture and 
 down the dusty road. The rain was just upon 
 us when we reached the Butterfield farm-house, 
 and dashed recklessly in at the door, which 
 stood hospitably open. Mr. Hamlin drew out 
 a chair for me, but I sank into a heap on the 
 floor. We were in a large, raftered kitchen, 
 and the air was filled with the pleasant spicy 
 odor of the wood fire, newly kindled in the 
 stove. As we tumbled in at one door Mrs. 
 Simeon Butterfield came in at another with an 
 armful of sticks, which she threw down upon 
 the floor. 
 
 " Wai," she said, in a rich, comfortable voice,
 
 WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 " hed a narrer squeak for t, didn t ye? Little 
 more n ye d been soppin ." 
 
 " We must beg your pardon," said Mr. Ham- 
 lin, " for coming in without knocking." 
 
 " Law sakes," said the woman, regarding us 
 with a broad and friendly smile, " don t say a 
 word ; don t say a word. T want no time to 
 stop for manners, I m sure." 
 
 She proceeded to fill her stove with wood, 
 and opening the oven door, urged me to sit up 
 and dry my boots. 
 
 " Ye Ve about lost all your plums, I guess," 
 she said sympathetically. " Adaline, she went 
 over a spell ternoon and picked a mess for 
 supper. I m a stewin of em now in mo 
 lasses. Adaline, she thinks there aint nothin 
 quite so good as her mar s stewed plums. 
 Says she don t get nothin like em over to the 
 Corner." 
 
 While our hostess talked I had noticed a 
 towzled, sandy head, which kept appearing at
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 169 
 
 the door leading into the wood-house, and which 
 dodged away as often as I looked. 
 
 " That s Elnathan," said the woman, apolo 
 getically. " I tell him folks might almost think 
 he was n t wcll-witted, but he s only bashful. 
 He s different from Adaline an alwees was, 
 though to be sure she s got a good many more 
 manners than what she had before she went to 
 the Corner. She s been down to the Corner 
 two seasons, Adaline has, to work in the corn 
 factory. I think them corn-factory folks are 
 sort o stuck up, and girls get high notions 
 there." 
 
 She looked rather serious for a moment over 
 Adaline s " high notions," then her face relapsed 
 into its good-humored, easy expression. 
 
 " I guess ye must be from the Arrowsic camp, 
 haint ye, over beyond the mounting? Elnathan, 
 he s been over once to see ye. He s dretful 
 curious about the camp an tents, but after all 
 he darsn t speak to them when he gets there,
 
 I/O 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 he s so dretful bashful. Good lands ! Do look 
 at it rain ! " 
 
 The rain was indeed falling in sheets, but the 
 thunder and lightning were far off. It looked 
 almost as if it were settling down to storm all 
 night. Mr. Hamlin and I exchanged glances 
 of humorous despair. At this minute a door 
 opened, and the much-talked-of Adaline herself 
 appeared, surrounded by an admiring group of 
 children of assorted sizes. 
 
 She was a young girl, with a rather pretty, 
 silly face, and she had a self-conscious air which 
 her mother entirely lacked. She giggled and 
 shook her earrings about, as she looked at Mr. 
 Hamlin, and slid her wide black rubber brace 
 lets up and down her wrists. 
 
 " This is my daughter Adaline," said our 
 hostess. " Adaline, this is Dr. Greenleaf s 
 daughter; don t you remember her? Rally, 
 though, I Ve forgot what your name be," she 
 added, regarding Mr. Hamlin with a benevolent
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 I/I 
 
 look, " only seem ye onct, ye know, when ye 
 come with the medicine that day." 
 
 The name being given, and the ceremony of 
 introduction concluded, our hostess ran on with 
 her stream of talk. 
 
 " I always sot a sight by your father," she 
 said, " an I know him real well. He took our 
 Eva May through the measles last winter ; done 
 it well, too. Now you must jest stop to supper; 
 ye see it don t hold up a mite yet. Ef it haint 
 done raining after supper, Elnath shall carry ye 
 round home in the wagon. Now you go right 
 into the fore-room, and Adaline will entertain 
 ye. You play to em, Adaline, and show em 
 the album, and I 11 stir up somethin for an 
 early supper." 
 
 Reluctantly we agreed that it was quite im 
 possible for us to start for home in such a storm, 
 and though politely protesting against the sup 
 per, we yielded at length, and meekly followed 
 Adaline into the " fore-room." The " fore-
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 room " was small and stuffy. It smclled of oil 
 cloth and varnish and bombazine, but it was, of 
 its class, quite an opulent " fore-room." There 
 were a haircloth sofa and four slippery hair 
 cloth chairs. A mahogany centre-table was 
 covered with a white cloth with a knotted fringe. 
 In the middle stood a lamp on a green worsted 
 mat. Round about this were ranged the family 
 Bible, the album, a red pin-cushion made over 
 a broken goblet, and a box once covered with 
 shells pressed into putty, but now showing 
 chiefly the putty, with holes where the shells 
 had been. On the wall hung a hideous 
 " Death-bed of Abraham Lincoln," framed in 
 leather-work ; a " Sailor s Return," in cones ; a 
 Biblical scene, in pebbles ; and a certificate of 
 membership of the M. E. American Mis 
 sionary Society, enriched with a border of 
 beans. 
 
 Eva May, the smallest of the flock of chil 
 dren, not being at all afflicted with her brother
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 173 
 
 Elnathan s shyness, volunteered a good deal of 
 information. 
 
 " That s Gran f ther Butterfield s coffin-plate," 
 she said, pointing to a silver plate which adorned 
 the wall above the mantel ; " and that wreath in 
 the frame, them was the flowers Aunt Silviny 
 had onto her coffin. I went to her funiril," she 
 added with awful relish. " That s the only 
 funiril ever I ben to." 
 
 " Don t talk so much, Eva May Butterfield," 
 said Adaline, setting forth two of the slippery 
 chairs. " Do take seats." 
 
 We seated ourselves in silence. The atmos 
 phere of the room was depressing, not to say 
 funereal ; and I longed for the old kitchen, with 
 its cheerful mistress, its fragrant fire, and open 
 door. 
 
 " Could n t we have the windows open? 
 suggested Mr. Hamlin. 
 
 " If you can get em open," said Adaline, 
 dubiously. " They was stuck down when
 
 174 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 the house was painted, and they Ve always 
 stuck." 
 
 It proved that they stuck still ; and after a 
 brief but manful struggle, Mr. Hamlin gave it 
 up, and we relapsed into gasping silence. 
 
 " I 11 show you the album, if you want to see 
 it," said Adaline. 
 
 She openly addressed Mr. Hamlin, and estab 
 lished herself beside him. I had nothing to do 
 but listen humbly from afar, and watch the 
 rain. 
 
 "This," began Adaline, with the air of a 
 show-man, " is Aunt Cathrme. She used to 
 live over to Litchfield Corner, in a house with 
 a bay window ; she s dead now. That s Uncle 
 Jeduthan, her husband; he s dead, too. That s 
 my Aunt Adaline, that I was named for; she 
 keeps three canaries. And that s her first hus 
 band, Uncle John ; he s dead. Her second 
 husband never was took; we aint got no picture 
 of him."
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 175 
 
 "Why not?" asked Mr. Hamlin, briskly, 
 rousing himself to take an interest in his enter 
 tainer s efforts, and frowning upon me as he 
 detected me in a smile. 
 
 " Oh, he don t darse to," replied Adaline ; 
 " he s too bashful. He s dretful bashful, Uncle 
 James is. That s my cousin Julia; she s dead 
 now. That s her twin brother, Jude ; he s 
 joined the church this summer. That s Aunt 
 Samanthy; she s dead. That s mother s Uncle 
 Peleg; his wife, she hung herself out in the 
 barn, and Uncle Peleg, he never knew it; 
 thought she d gone to some of the neighbors, 
 till he went out to do the chores, and found her 
 hanging in the tie-up." 
 
 " She was dead," cheerfully added Eva May, 
 who stood by an interested listener. 
 
 "That," continued Adaline, "is Maria Carey; 
 she s gone to Idaho. That s my brother four 
 years ago." 
 
 " Is he dead?" asked Mr. Hamlin.
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 " Why, no," replied Adaline, much shocked, 
 " that s Elnathan ; did n t you see him out in 
 the kitchen?" 
 
 I laughed gleefully though silently, and Mr. 
 Hamlin shook his head at me over the elaborate 
 plaits of Adaline s hair. 
 
 " Who is this queer-looking child with such 
 big ears?" he asked. 
 
 " Oh, that s me when I was a baby," answered 
 Adaline, slightly offended. 
 
 At this I laughed aloud, and after a minute 
 Adaline decided to join me. We were still 
 laughing when the door opened, and a young 
 man was ushered in by Mrs. Butterfield. 
 
 " One more to keep ye company," she an 
 nounced cheerfully. " Elnath had this young 
 feller out in the barn. He came on one o them 
 crazy wheels that city boarders trapse about on 
 now-days. You jest make yourselves to home, 
 all of ye, and we 11 hev supper in no time 
 now."
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 177 
 
 The new-comer was a dark and rather hand 
 some young man in brown velvet knickerbockers 
 and a Norfolk jacket. He had evidently reached 
 the shelter of the barn before the shower began, 
 for he was as neat and jaunty as a fashion plate. 
 He bowed slightly as Mrs. Butterfield presented 
 him, and seating himself by the window became 
 absorbed in studying the dripping lilac bush 
 outside. 
 
 " I wisht you d play me a tune," said Adaline, 
 suddenly addressing me for the first time. "I 
 wisht you would. I m terrible fond of music." 
 
 " I cannot play," I replied, " but we should 
 like to hear you." 
 
 " I don t play," answered Adaline, " I sing. 
 But I haint practised for ever so long." 
 
 " Do sing," urged Mr. Hamlin. " Let me 
 open the melodeon for you." 
 
 " Oh, I never should darst to," declared Ada- 
 line, nevertheless rising and following him. " I 
 aint us t to singin before strangers."
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 She sat down, however, with much giggling 
 and shaking of elbows. The chair proved to 
 be too low, and required a " Choral Wreath " 
 and a " Golden Lyre " to bring it up suffi 
 ciently. Then, when she was fairly seated, 
 she was obliged to bend down half a dozen 
 times to be sure that the pedals were really 
 there. 
 
 " There, now ! " she exclaimed ; " I can t, and 
 I said I could n t." 
 
 " Oh, but you have n t tried yet," said Mr. 
 Hamlin, reassuringly. " Do try." 
 
 Thus coaxed and encouraged Adaline finally 
 yielded, and struck in boldly with that charming 
 ditty, " Pull for the Shore." Her voice was loud 
 and shrill. The pedals rattled and clattered, the 
 wind choked and gulped in the bellows ; but 
 Adaline, having started, sang on and on, paus 
 ing neither for breath nor interlude, until she 
 had sung every verse, when she stopped panting, 
 saying meekly,
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 179 
 
 " I haint sung any for a long time ; I m all 
 hoarscd up." 
 
 Mrs. Buttcrficld had appeared at the door 
 with floury hands, but a countenance beaming 
 with placid approval. 
 
 " Sing em Surely the Captain May Depend 
 on Me, " she urged. " I call that about the 
 handsomest tune of all." 
 
 Upon this Adaline obligingly began again. 
 She not only sang her mother s favorite, but 
 many others. She urged Mr. Plamlin to join in 
 the chorus. I sat behind her and laughed at 
 Mr. Hamlin, near-sightcdly peering over Ada- 
 line s shoulder and singing Moody and Sankey 
 favorites. The dark-faced young man looked 
 melancholy, and gazed into the lilac bush. The 
 rain had nearly stopped falling, and the blue 
 sky was breaking through the clouds. I was 
 about to suggest that we might safely start for 
 home, when Eva May appeared at the door and 
 announced supper.
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 The table was spread in the kitchen, and 
 about the door leading into the wood-house 
 several children were clustered, gazing long 
 ingly at the viands. 
 
 " Father n Elnathan aint a comin ," an 
 nounced one of them, shrilly. " Elnath says 
 he druther eat in the tie-up than along of 
 comp ny." 
 
 " There, Victory, I guess that 11 do," said 
 Mrs. Butterfield, with dignity. " You can come 
 to table and set in Elnath s chair. See how 
 much like a little lady you can act." 
 
 The sun had come out warm and bright, and 
 shone in at the open kitchen door. In the pool 
 of rain-water left in the hollow door-stone two 
 gaunt, yellow-legged chickens disported them 
 selves as we ate our supper. 
 
 " Ef I d only a known ye were comin ," said 
 Mrs. Butterfield, hospitably, " I d a hed some- 
 thin cooked up for ye ; but, as t is, I haint 
 nothin raly fit to set before comp ny. I don t
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 know when I ve hcd scch awful poor luck with 
 my biscuits. Ef ye hed n t just come from 
 campin out, I should be ashamed to offer em 
 to ye." 
 
 "Are you camping out?" asked the dark 
 young man, suddenly raising his eyes from his 
 plate. 
 
 Upon hearing that we were, he became un 
 expectedly interested in us. He was anxious to 
 know how we liked the life. He asked how we 
 employed our evenings, and what we did in 
 stormy weather. I thought he decidedly gave 
 Mr. Hamlin an opportunity to invite him to 
 visit the camp, but this, very naturally, Mr. 
 Hamlin did not do. The young man said that 
 he was spending some weeks at the " Gorge," 
 a mountain village thirty miles above, where 
 summer visitors thronged. 
 
 " I am terribly afflicted with insomnia," fixing 
 his melancholy dark eyes upon my face. " My 
 physician has ordered me to spend much time
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 in the open air, and my bicycle and I have 
 pretty thoroughly explored the country about 
 here." 
 
 " You certainly cannot think of getting back 
 to the Gorge to-night," said Mr. Hamlin, bluntly. 
 
 " Mrs. Butterfield has kindly promised me a 
 bed for to-night," replied he, with a smile. " I 
 believe I will take a little spin for exercise, if 
 the roads will allow it." 
 
 We had left the table and were standing 
 grouped about the open door. 
 
 " We must be getting home at once," said 
 Mr. Hamlin, decidedly; "your sister will be 
 anxious about you, Miss Betty." 
 
 The dark young man had disappeared, and 
 now returned rolling beside him a bicycle, 
 whose great wheel looked as though a big 
 spider had spun it. Mr. Hamlin went forward 
 to examine the beautiful machine, and I tried 
 to thank our hostess for her kindness. 
 
 " Don t say a word, now, don t say a word,"
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 133 
 
 she said; " twas pot-luck, and poor enough at 
 that. You re real welcome, I m sure. Lands ! 
 Do see him ; he s histin himself up." 
 
 The dark young man had mounted his bicycle, 
 and was running up and down before the house 
 for the benefit of the children, who stood staring 
 in open-mouthed wonder. From the door of 
 the barn the bashful Elnathan and his frowzy- 
 haired father looked on with much interest. 
 
 " Gosh ! " exclaimed Elnathan, admiringly, 
 " I sh d like to try that myself. Looks dretful 
 easy." 
 
 " Ye great loon," replied his father, " ye 
 could n t no more ride it than ye could ride 
 our young bull." 
 
 As we started for the camp along the wet 
 road, the bicycler joined us. 
 
 " If you would n t mind," he said, gracefully 
 touching his Tam-o -Shanter cap, " I should 
 very much like to ride a little distance with 
 you."
 
 1 84 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 " Certainly," said Mr. Hamlin, not very cor 
 dially; and the three of us soon left behind the 
 hospitable house of the Butterfields, and the star 
 ing group about the door. The sun was not yet 
 set, and the air was full of fresh wild odors of 
 brake and pine and moss. When we passed 
 through the little beech wood-road the drops 
 of rain were still pattering softly among the 
 dripping leaves, and now and then falling, 
 slow and heavy, to the already sodden earth. 
 The frogs were croaking in a noisy chorus, 
 glad of the rain ; and deep among the trees, a 
 wood bird was calling in a voice of delicious 
 sweetness. 
 
 Just beyond the wood our escort said good 
 night and left us. I turned and watched him 
 as he rode away. He looked a very handsome 
 young figure in his velvet clothes and dark-red 
 cap. 
 
 " What a very good-looking young man ! " 
 I exclaimed.
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 I8 5 
 
 " Yes," assented Mr. Hamlin, whipping the 
 drenched roadside bushes with my alpenstock, 
 " he s good enough looking, but his get-up is 
 confoundedly theatrical." 
 
 " He looks melancholy," I said sentimentally, 
 "as if he had some trouble weighing on him." 
 
 " Dyspepsia," returned Mr. Hamlin, briefly, 
 still whipping the bushes. 
 
 "You could 11 1 have seen him eat ham and 
 hot soda biscuit," I laughed, " if you think 
 that." 
 
 It was three miles round the mountain road, 
 and it was quite dark when at last we reached 
 Sippican Meadow and saw the fire burning below 
 the tents. We found the camp in a damp and 
 discouraged condition. They were gathered in 
 the dining tent attempting to tell stories. They 
 had supped upon cheese and limp crackers, 
 and, altogether, it seemed that our lot had been 
 happier than theirs. 
 
 " Josephine is angry," whispered Lucretia to
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 me as we were going to bed. " You know she 
 thinks Mr. Hamlin is her property. And it 
 really was improper, too," she added ; " I don t 
 know, I m sure, what Aunt Jane would say." 
 
 Miss Alexander came across to me presently, 
 with her wavy red hair hanging below her waist 
 and her eyes shining like stars. She looked 
 almost pretty. She brought a box of choco 
 lates, and offered them to me as I sat on the 
 edge of my bed. 
 
 " Don t you like them? They are Maillard s," 
 she said. " I would n t stir from home without 
 a supply of Maillard s confectionery. Arc n t 
 you dreadfully tired?" 
 
 " Oh, no," I replied cheerfully. " I am so 
 strong. I m a country girl, you know. It was 
 really quite a funny adventure." 
 
 " I wish I had been there," she said suddenly. 
 Then she fell to studying her pretty, delicate 
 hands. " How demoralizing camp life is," she 
 mused. " I use my toilette dcs angles every day,
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 I8 7 
 
 yet my fingers are growing hideous. I should 
 be ashamed to have anybody kiss my hand 
 now." 
 
 " I should at any time," I said bluntly. " I 
 should feel like an idiot." 
 
 Miss Alexander gave me an enthusiastic, 
 sudden squeeze. 
 
 " What a dear little innocent daisy you are ! " 
 she exclaimed. " I should like to confide in 
 you." 
 
 " You d better not," I returned ; " I always 
 tell things." 
 
 " Was your sister scolding you for coming 
 home alone with Mr. Hamlin? " she asked. 
 " To be sure, though, you were n t alone, for 
 the young bicycler escorted you." 
 
 " Only a little way," I said. " He went back 
 to Mrs. Butterfield s to spend the night. I think 
 he is going back to the Gorge to-morrow. He 
 wore a beautiful brown velvet suit. I wish all 
 the young men were dressed that way."
 
 WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 " Brown velvet is very becoming to those light 
 men," observed Miss Alexander. 
 
 " He was not light," I corrected. " He was 
 very dark, and he looked very grave and mel 
 ancholy. I quite pitied him." 
 
 " You are a darling ! " exclaimed Miss Alex 
 ander, with another hug. " You may keep the 
 chocolates. Good-night, c/ufrie."
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 XV. 
 WHAT BOB SAYS. 
 
 YOU see this bow-and-arrow business would 
 be all well enough if you ever hit anything; but 
 the plain truth is that you don t. Here we ve 
 been over two weeks in camp, and not one sin 
 gle confounded thing has anybody shot. Of 
 course the boiled ham and beef that we brought 
 along with us lasted a few days, but since we 
 finished that, we ve just lived on fish till I won 
 der we don t have fins grow. This is n t half 
 as jolly a camping-out as last year. We had 
 plenty to eat then. Betty is different too. She s 
 all gone to pieces ; no fun in her. She has n t 
 been fishing with Fred and me half the time. 
 
 Yesterday Fred and I went for pickerel over 
 to Mason s Pond, on the road to the Gorge, and 
 when we d most ot there we met a fellow on a
 
 i go 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 bicycle. It was a boss one. I never saw such 
 a good one in my life. He rode boss, too. He 
 could stand still on it, almost. Fred and I 
 stopped to watch him, and he got off to fix 
 something, so we got to talking with him, and 
 that s how he came to give me the letter. It 
 was to Miss Alexander. Betty does n t like her, 
 but I think she s a first-rate sort of a girl. 
 
 She has had a hard time of it at home, too, I 
 guess, but she is n t afraid of spiders ; so the 
 fellow said if I d give her the note, and not let 
 anybody see, he d be awfully obliged. You 
 see, we d told him about ourselves and the 
 camp, and then he offered me a ride. I did try 
 it, too, it looked so easy. Fred just climbed up 
 and keeled over, and I did n t stay on quite as 
 long as Fred. So, of course, I did give her the 
 note, and as 
 
 There s Fred, and we re going across the 
 pond for sweet flag.
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 WHAT BETTY SAYS. 
 
 "MR. HAMLIN," called Mrs. Sparhawk, pleas 
 antly, " Miss Alexander and I are going to the 
 Glen. Will you not come with us to protect 
 us from wild beasts?" 
 
 We all looked up in some surprise. It was a 
 perfect morning, with a cool breeze darkening 
 the surface of the pond ; but Mrs. Sparhawk 
 was by no means fond of walking over country 
 roads, and usually preferred remaining behind 
 in her hammock, to joining any of our expe 
 ditions. Mr. Hamlin rose from the grass and 
 brushed the cigar ashes from his blue flannel 
 garments. 
 
 " By all means," he said, not very cordially. 
 "Why don t we all go?" 
 
 Nobody else appeared to wish to start, how-
 
 192 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 ever. Mrs. Winthrop had cooking to do ; Mrs. 
 Dudley considered the Glen a damp and rheu 
 matic spot; Emily wished to see if she could 
 not finish her chair-cover that morning, and 
 Lucretia, Josephine, Ted, and Arthur Winthrop 
 had ensconced themselves under the shade of 
 the apple-tree, too comfortably to be disturbed. 
 
 I should have liked to go myself, and was 
 about to say so, when Mrs. Sparhawk asked 
 me to take care of the children. 
 
 " You are so good-natured, Miss Betty," she 
 said, " that I fear I m imposing on you, but the 
 Colonel will soon be through with his letters, 
 and then you can turn the young imps over to 
 him. Are you ready, Annie?" 
 
 Annie Alexander rose from her camp-chair 
 rather languidly. She had told me one even 
 ing that she had a hidden grief, but I thought 
 myself that she must get a good deal of 
 consolation from her gowns. She is one of 
 those people with a positive genius for dress.
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 193 
 
 Josephine looks like a commonplace dowdy be 
 side her. Nothing could be simpler than her gray 
 batiste gown and her little black hat; and yet 
 there was nobody in camp to compare with her, 
 as she unfurled her large batiste sun-umbrella 
 and stepped off beside Mr. Hamlin. 
 
 " There goes a thoroughly artificial girl," 
 commented Mrs. Winthrop, unwisely, " and 
 yet every man in the camp is fascinated by 
 her." 
 
 " What did you say was the matter with 
 her ? " asked Rodney Sparhawk, shrewdly. 
 " She gives me choclits, and Bevis stole my 
 sugared almond," 
 
 " Did n t eivcr, stoled it yousef," promptly 
 responded the warlike Bevis, digging so vio 
 lently with an iron spoon that the sand flew in 
 our eyes. 
 
 " I think he has forgotten what you said," I 
 said softly to Mrs. Winthrop. " He could not 
 understand your words." 
 13
 
 194 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 " I m goin in bavin ," announced Bevis. 
 " Tired o diggin dirt." 
 
 " Wait until Papa comes, Bevis," I urged. 
 " I do not think he would like you to go in 
 so soon after breakfast." 
 
 " He wants me to be clean," put in Rodney, 
 " so I guess we better go right off. We always 
 did at home." 
 
 " Why, Rodney," I said, trying by discussion 
 to divert them from really going in, " you have 
 no pond at home." 
 
 " We bathed in the cistern," replied Rodney, 
 with dignity. " Now I think we better take off 
 our stockings to save time, and take off our 
 shoes too." 
 
 " What is going on here, pray, you nasty little 
 apes ? " asked a fond maternal voice, and Mrs. 
 Sparhavvk appeared beside us. 
 
 She took a seat, adjusted her glasses, and 
 began to fan herself. 
 
 " I could not endure it, after all," she said
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 195 
 
 plaintively. " I did want to see the cascade, 
 and I thought the Glen would be so deli- 
 ciously cool ; but that dreadful country road 
 was too bad. Really, my ankles are quite 
 twisted out of joint. I had to give it up and 
 come back." 
 
 " And the others went on ? " asked Mrs. 
 Winthrop. 
 
 " Yes," replied Mrs. Sparhawk, smiling. " Mr. 
 Hamlin urged poor Annie so that she really 
 could n t refuse." 
 
 She fanned herself slowly for a moment, and 
 then added, 
 
 " Quite a case of infatuation. Annie is one 
 of the most infatuating creatures ! She always 
 takes men by storm." 
 
 " Do you want the children to go in bathing, 
 Mrs. Sparhawk ? " I asked abruptly. " They 
 said they were going, but I thought it was too 
 near their breakfast time." 
 
 " And you were right, you real little doctor s
 
 196 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 daughter," she said gayly. " Children, you are 
 absolutely not to go into the water, not one 
 step, do you understand?" 
 
 " We Ve got our shoes and stockings all off," 
 said Rodney. 
 
 " Very well, put them on again," said Mrs. 
 Sparhawk, with fine decision. 
 
 She picked up her French novel from the 
 grass and began to read, while the children 
 calmly and happily proceeded to go in wading. 
 As nobody else appeared to pay the slightest 
 attention to the little things, I went down to the 
 beach beside them, where my own gown speedily 
 became quite drabbled and spattered from the 
 children s splashing. 
 
 " Here comes a horse-car," announced Rodney, 
 unexpectedly. 
 
 Horse-cars not running regularly over the 
 Sippican Mountain route, Rodney s remark met 
 with more than usual attention. I looked up, 
 and Emily Dudley put down her embroidery.
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 I 9 7 
 
 " It is Mrs. Jarlcy," said Arthur Winthrop, 
 from his scat under the tree. 
 
 " It is Dr. Marigold," declared Colonel Spar- 
 hawk, who had just come out of the dining 
 tent. 
 
 " A circus ! a circus ! " cried Bevis, spattering 
 wildly out of the water. " Come quick, Papa, 
 and wipe my two fects. The grass is pricky." 
 
 " I 11 tell you," exclaimed Ted, springing from 
 the ground; " it is a travelling photographer." 
 
 "What fun!" joined in Josephine; "now 
 we 11 all have our pictures taken." 
 
 The van was gayly painted with red, and had 
 a white funnel running out of one end. A little 
 glass roof rose in the middle. The car was 
 drawn by two bony horses, and the reins ex 
 tended directly into the open door. The driver 
 was invisible. 
 
 With one accord we abandoned books and 
 work and hastened up the meadow. Even Mrs. 
 Sparhawk strolled after us, adjusting her eye-
 
 198 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 glass, and declaring that this was "really very 
 droll, you know." 
 
 " Hi ! " shouted Ted. " Stop ! Don t go by." 
 
 He need not have been afraid of this, as it 
 proved, for by the time we reached the road the 
 car had stopped. A young man in a ging 
 ham coat came out, followed by a red-haired 
 boy, and began to unharness the travel-tired 
 horses. 
 
 "How de do?" asked the gingham-coated 
 one, politely. " Dry spell we ve ben havin 
 lately." 
 
 He went on briskly with his work while we 
 all stood and stared at him, much as a band of 
 natives might have stared at Stanley in the 
 trackless wilds of Africa. 
 
 " Turn em out, Harmon, and let em feed 
 down along the road," said the master of the 
 caravan to the boy. 
 
 He let down a small flight of steps from the 
 end of the car.
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 199 
 
 " Now, ladies and gents," he said politely, 
 "walk right in and make yourselves to home. 
 I heard about the camp over to Snow s Falls, 
 and I drove down this mornin a purpose to 
 commodate you." 
 
 " That was very kind of you," observed Ted, 
 slyly. 
 
 " I m always glad to commodate," the man 
 replied. " I thought like enough you d like a 
 chance to set. Walk in and look at the pictures, 
 anyway, even if you should n t wish to be took. 
 Walk right in. Don t be bashful." 
 
 Thus invited, we all clambered into the car, 
 Rodney and Bevis making themselves, as Theo 
 dore remarked, " rather too frequent," and nearly 
 knocking over the rest of us in their haste to be 
 first in the field. 
 
 " I mus have my pickshcr took," cried Bevis, 
 shrilly. " Rodney had his las winter, and he 
 cried an then he had candy." 
 
 " That was a tooth, you silly little boy," said
 
 2QO A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 Rodney, with a superior air ; " and I guess you d 
 have cried bout that." 
 
 Within the car the atmosphere was stuffy and 
 smelled of chemicals. The glass roof had a 
 curtain of faded blue cambric. There was a 
 sort of screen at the further end, a couple of 
 steamer-like berths, a cupboard, a little rusty 
 stove, a few chairs, and a table on which were 
 the untidy remnants of a meal. In cases hanging 
 against the wall were the pictures : tintypes of 
 every size, from minettes at twenty-five cents a 
 dozen, to the imposing " Emperial Bodoor," 
 " a French name," the photographer explained 
 casually and condescendingly, which were half 
 a dollar apiece. He added, to take the sting 
 from this exorbitant price, that they were as 
 much sought after as real oil painting, and 
 " would wear better, besides." 
 
 We found the pictures more entertaining than 
 the proprietor, and spent some time in exam 
 ining them. There were farmers and farmers
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 2 OI 
 
 wives, rustic beaux and belles, and family groups 
 of children. Some were simpering, and some 
 wore an expression of wide-eyed horror, as if 
 they were in momentary expectation of the 
 camera s exploding like a dynamite bomb. 
 Nearly every girl grasped a bouquet firmly. 
 It was always the same bouquet, and we easily 
 recognized the original in the bunch of faded 
 pink muslin roses lying upon a chair. As for 
 the men, they mostly sat in ox-eyed blankness. 
 The large right hand clutched an unaccustomed 
 book ; the left hand was carelessly disposed 
 upon the knee. There was, too, in nearly every 
 picture a bit of rustic stump in some position in 
 foreground or background. 
 
 " Now," announced cheerful Mr. Winthrop at 
 last, taking pity upon the wistful artist, " now 
 we must all have pictures. Who sits first?" 
 
 " Me ! " shouted Rodney and Bevis in shrill 
 chorus. 
 
 And in fact they were taken at once, " the
 
 2Q2 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 better," as their mother remarked, " to have 
 the nasty, troublesome little creatures out ^of 
 the way." 
 
 Mrs. Dudley from the steps without urged 
 her daughter to leave the car. 
 
 " Emily," she said plaintively, " if you will 
 persist in staying, at least come here and let me 
 wet your handkerchief in camphor. Those 
 chemicals must be bad to breathe." 
 
 " I see," said Colonel Sparhawk, " that you 
 have a rustic stump. Do you charge more for 
 introducing that?" 
 
 "Not a cent more," replied the artist, " though 
 I dare say some would. I don t mind saying 
 that it s a second-handed stump, though you 
 would n t think it. It is every bit as genteel 
 as what it ever was. I got it at a bargain of 
 Perkins Brothers over to Reedville, though, as 
 t was, I paid a good high price for it too. 
 Perkins Brothers, they d had it a considerable 
 spell, and their patrons had all ben took with
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 203 
 
 it, so they planned for somethin new and 
 taking. Amos, the oldest, he was for having 
 a trellis ; but Andrew, he was sot on a post 
 with an urn atop of it. I never knew which 
 they got at last, but I bought the stump, 
 and it s brought me in more setters than you d 
 believe." 
 
 "What exciting things have taken place in 
 our absence ! " cried a gay voice at the door. 
 
 " I firmly believe, Mrs. Sparhawk," chimed in 
 the voice of Mr. Hamlin, " that you knew of this 
 by second-sight, and tried to cheat us out of 
 having our pictures taken." 
 
 " Indeed, I did not," protested Mrs. Sparhawk, 
 laughing. " In proof of my fairness, see, you 
 shall have the next sitting. Let us have a 
 group, Miss Alexander seated on the stump, 
 and you standing gracefully beside her." 
 
 "I detest having my picture taken; let us 
 off, please," begged Miss Alexander, prettily. 
 
 "No," laughed Mrs. Sparhawk; "really, I am
 
 204 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 inflexible. To please me, Annie. You know I 
 have a fancy for my own way." 
 
 " Ipsa dixit" murmured the Colonel, with a 
 grimace. " If I had chanced to say that ! " 
 
 Somehow all the fun seemed to have gone 
 out of the thing since Mr. Hamlin came. I felt 
 cross and out of patience with Bevis and Rodney, 
 and the whole affair of the picture-taking grew 
 as stupid as possible. Miss Alexander con 
 sented, after much urging, to sit on the stump ; 
 and after she and Mr. Hamlin were taken, Mrs. 
 Winthrop and Bevis had a picture. Then 
 Mr. Winthrop, holding that absurd bouquet; 
 then Mrs. Sparhawk, with the stump in the 
 foreground ; Bob and Fred in fishing cos 
 tume, with the stump between them ; Emily, 
 Josephine, and Lucretia, with the stump dimly 
 seem in the background ; Theodore, Emily, 
 and Lucretia; Arthur Winthrop with his geo 
 logical hammer; and in nearly every picture 
 Rodney and Bevis, with many heads and hands,
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 205 
 
 because keeping still was with them an utter 
 impossibility. 
 
 " You have n t had your picture taken, Betty," 
 said Bob, most inopportunely. 
 
 " I m not going to," I answered, preparing to 
 leave the car. 
 
 Almost everybody had gone back to the 
 camp. Only the children and the two boys 
 were left. 
 
 " Do have it taken, just for fun," urged Bob. 
 "All the rest of us have." 
 
 "Do," added Bevis; "and me too, I ll be 
 tooken." 
 
 " Bevis, dear," said Miss Alexander from the 
 door, " Papa is going out in the boat with 
 Rodney, and wants you to come too." 
 
 "What is this about your picture?" asked 
 Mr. Hamlin, coming in. " Have you had the 
 big one taken yet?" 
 
 "What big one? " I asked. 
 
 " Why, the Emperial Bodoor for your father."
 
 206 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 " Father detests tintypes," I said. 
 
 "For your Aunt Jane, then, or for Harriet; 
 no matter for whom. You are to sit on the 
 stump and hold your sailor hat in your lap 
 s il vous pi ait T 
 
 " But it does not," I cried, vexed ; " I do not 
 wish to be taken at all." 
 
 " Don t be a gump, Bet," advised Bob. 
 "What do you want to be so silly for? Go 
 ahead." 
 
 " Emperial Bodoor, sir?" asked the artist, 
 bustling about and disregarding me entirely. 
 
 " I shall look as disagreeable as I possibly 
 can," I announced crossly, as I seated myself. 
 
 " You d better not trouble yourself," said 
 Bob, frankly, " for you re a regular guy anyway, 
 with your hair like a rat s nest and your collar 
 crooked." 
 
 " Never mind," I said, when at last the sitting 
 was through ; " I shall give it to Harriet, and 
 she won t mind."
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 207 
 
 After supper we sat on the rugs before the 
 tents, while Arthur Winthrop and Theodore 
 tried to give us a burlesque of the ghost scene 
 in Hamlet. It was not very funny, and we had 
 to try very hard to laugh at all. Perhaps we 
 might have found it more amusing if the actors 
 had found it less so. 
 
 Mr. Hamlin came down the field after a 
 time with our pictures. They were protected 
 with little curtains of magenta paper. After we 
 had gazed upon the tintypes we were thankful 
 for the curtains. 
 
 " They are hideous," said Mrs. Sparhawk. 
 " Limkin, dear, crunch mine up." 
 
 " My life," said the Colonel, " let me keep 
 one, at least." 
 
 "Not one; they arc libellous," declared his 
 wife. 
 
 " Oh, my shoul," piped Bevis, who was mak 
 ing himself quite detestable with his unhampered 
 criticisms. " Do look ! Miss Betty s got a
 
 2O8 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 navvful big one, bigger n any uvver body s 
 here." 
 
 " Why, Betty," said Lucretia, " how very 
 funny for you to have such a big one ! " 
 
 " I hate a lot of little ones always round in 
 my button-box," I said. 
 
 " You must have had it taken on purpose for 
 some one person, I should think," said Josephine, 
 laughing slyly. 
 
 " She did," said Bobby, coming to the rescue; 
 " she had it taken for Harriet Tuell." 
 
 "It was my fault," said Mr. Hamlin; "I 
 advised it." 
 
 " Mr. Hamlin," said Mrs. Sparhawk, " the 
 dew is falling; will you please take this wrap 
 across to Miss Alexander, and give her a 
 gentle scolding for trying to write in this half- 
 light?" 
 
 The car had already been hitched to its horses 
 and started on its homeward way. Rodney and 
 Bevis were borne away to bed by their father.
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 2O9 
 
 Miss Alexander and Mr. Hamlin strolled to and 
 fro on the little beach. Ted and Arthur were 
 singing college songs. Presently, when it was 
 darker and damper, the camp-fire was lighted. 
 Mr. Hamlin and Miss Alexander came and 
 joined us. She looked almost like a beauty with 
 Mrs. Sparhawk s silvery chudclah arranged in 
 the Egyptian fashion about her head. I won 
 dered how I ever could have thought her plain. 
 I thought it was no wonder Mr. Hamlin liked 
 her. 
 
 " Oh, look ! " I cried suddenly. " A will-o- 
 the-wisp." 
 
 A round ball of yellow light moved swiftly 
 along the crest of the meadow and vanished. 
 
 " Where? " asked several voices. " What 
 was it? " 
 
 A hand clasped mine convulsively. 
 
 " For Heaven s sake do not say any more ! " 
 murmured the voice of Miss Alexander in my 
 ear. " Do not. You may ruin me." 
 14
 
 2io A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 " It was a meteor," I said inanely. 
 
 But I withdrew my hand from Miss Alex 
 ander s clasp, and in a moment, to get away 
 from her, I pleaded a headache and went to 
 bed.
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 2 II 
 
 XVII. 
 
 WHAT BOB SAYS. 
 
 WHAT S a fellow to do when a girl asks him, 
 even if he does n t want to do it ? When she 
 came and cried, and said how she felt; said 
 I was the only real friend she had in camp ; 
 said she could trust me, and all the time, you 
 know, kept on crying like anything, of course, 
 I took the note and carried it to him. 
 
 He turned out to be the bicycle fellow. I 
 thought so when I saw the light sail by. I tell 
 you what, though, it is a boss bicycle ; a Colum 
 bia. It is even more stunning than I thought 
 that day. He said if we d come over to-morrow 
 we might try it all the morning. Asked me if 
 I d tell her just " waiting; " that one word. So 
 I did.
 
 212 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 In the night it rained, and the waterproof tent 
 leaked, and the flour barrel is full of paste this 
 morning. We had crackers and boiled eggs for 
 breakfast. No meat for two weeks. To-day 
 we must begin shooting in dead earnest; no 
 more fooling.
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 213 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 WHAT BETTY SAYS. 
 
 EVERY morning Emily Dudley, who always 
 tries to do her duty, takes her bow and goes 
 up the road to the beech-wood shooting. She 
 never has shot anything ; in fact, there s noth 
 ing to shoot but squirrels and woodchucks, 
 but she still perseveres in the most admirable 
 manner. 
 
 Perhaps living upon bread and milk and fruit 
 is depressing. At any rate we are growing 
 stupid at Camp Sippican. Yesterday morning 
 Mrs. Sparhawk actually threatened to go home 
 unless we made an effort to be entertaining. 
 
 " I do not care for myself, you know," she 
 said amiably, " but Annie Alexander is my 
 guest, and it is my duty to make her visit pleas 
 ant. Mr. Hamlin, do please go and ask her to
 
 214 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 play backgammon. She is moping over a book 
 in the dining tent." 
 
 Mr. Hamlin, who was playing cat s cradle with 
 Rodney, rose obediently and departed. He is 
 always very happy to wait on Mrs. Sparhawk. 
 In a few minutes he returned with Miss Alex 
 ander and the backgammon board. Miss Alex 
 ander looked pale and jaded, in spite of her 
 bewitching toque and jacket of blue cloth and 
 silver braids. She sat down upon the grass 
 hopelessly. 
 
 " I am in a most abominable temper," she 
 declared. " You much better have left me 
 alone, Mr. Hamlin." 
 
 " Everybody is in a nasty temper this morn 
 ing," said Mrs. Sparhawk. " I wonder why." 
 
 " It is the change in the weather," replied 
 Mrs. Dudley, solemnly. " I woke shivering at 
 three o clock this morning. I am quite positive 
 we shall all be ill, and no doctor." 
 
 " Betty can doctor you," spoke up Bob, who
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 215 
 
 sat near getting his fish-lines in order. " Betty 
 doctored me once when Father and Aunt Jane 
 were away, and I had a diphtheretic throat. She 
 set Ned s leg once, too. Just as good as ever 
 now, is n t it, Neddy ? " 
 
 Ned, lying near in his favorite flattened posi 
 tion, opened his eyes and thumped in a per 
 functory manner on the ground with his tail. 
 Mr. Hamlin gave me an odd, quick look; and 
 Josephine said, 
 
 " How funny for a girl to set a dog s leg ! 
 I never could have done it, I am so tender 
 hearted." 
 
 " It is a pity all women are not tender 
 hearted," said Mr. Hamlin, grimly. 
 
 " I am going up to the farm," announced 
 pleasant Mrs. Winthrop, coming out with her 
 hands full of parcels. " I am going to make 
 blueberry pies and gingerbread. Who will come 
 up and help me carry my things?" 
 
 " I will," I cried, jumping up, glad of some 
 thing to do.
 
 2I (5 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 " I will come and help with the pics in ten 
 minutes," called Mrs. Dudley from her mending. 
 
 " I 11 take the flour-bucket," said Fred, good- 
 naturedly, leaving his game of solitaire to follow 
 us across the field. 
 
 The farm which supplies us with milk and 
 vegetables is only a short distance beyond the 
 turn of the road, and here we have hired the 
 occasional use of a " back kitchen " and a stove 
 for such cooking as cannot be done well at 
 camp. Having seen Mrs. Winthrop, as Harriet 
 would say, " in the middle of the pies," Fred 
 rode triumphantly off on the farmer s mowing- 
 machine, while I loitered under a wide-spreading 
 butternut-tree beyond the farm-house. It was 
 a perfect morning, clear and cool, and a fresh 
 little breeze sent the wheat rippling and bend 
 ing in the sunny field across the road. I sat 
 down on a stone and took off my hat. I saw 
 no special reason for hurrying back to camp. 
 I made myself very comfortable, and was wish 
 ing for something to read, when round the bend
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 of the road came Mr. Hamlin. Miss Alexander 
 was not with him, and he was walking quickly. 
 
 " I concluded you were not coming back," 
 he called out. 
 
 " I ve been gone about fifteen minutes," I 
 said, trying to look dignified. " I suppose I 
 have a right to stay as long as I choose." 
 
 " Oh, no, you have not," said Mr. Hamlin, 
 cheerfully. 
 
 He sat down uninvited, and began to twirl his 
 gray Tam-o -Shantcr on the end of his walking- 
 stick. 
 
 " I wish you would n t do that," I said crossly; 
 " you make me dizzy." 
 
 Mr. Hamlin stopped promptly. 
 
 "Are you out of temper?" he asked cheer 
 fully, "or only hungry?" 
 
 " I certainly am not cross," I replied frigidly. 
 
 "What is the matter then?" he asked, re 
 garding me frankly. 
 
 I could hardly tell him, what I was forced to
 
 2i8 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 own to myself, that I was cross because he had 
 been playing backgammon with Miss Alexander. 
 I preserved a solemn silence. 
 
 " I 11 tell you what let s do," said Mr. Hamlin, 
 boyishly ; " let s run away ! " 
 
 ."What do you mean?" I asked severely. 
 
 " Oh, nothing," he said, and shied a stone at 
 a tiny chipmunk which darted like a brown flash 
 along the stone wall opposite. 
 
 Presently he stepped to an apple-tree near 
 by, and cutting a branch, began to trim it for 
 whittling. 
 
 " Sh ll tell Father," said a shrill and unex 
 pected voice behind us ; and turning, we dis 
 covered Tommy Durgin, the small son of the 
 farmer, standing watching our movements with 
 the utmost suspicion. 
 
 " Sh ll tell Father," he repeated threateningly. 
 
 "Tell him what?" asked Mr. Hamlin. 
 
 "Sh ll tell him ye went n cut a bough off n 
 the hightop tree."
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 219 
 
 " Well, I would," said Mr. Hamlin, continuing 
 his whittling with much calmness. " And since 
 you are going, I would go at once. Don t let 
 us detain you." 
 
 " Huh? " said the boy, bewildered. 
 
 He stared vacantly at us for a moment. He 
 did not understand Mr. Hamlin s words, but he 
 did realize that he was being " made fun of," 
 and his smouldering wrath arose. 
 
 " Set the dog on yer ! " he cried. 
 
 " Oh, I think not," said Mr. Hamlin, unmoved. 
 " You see, Tommy, the dog has gone to the 
 hay-field with your father." 
 
 Angry and baffled, the boy stood looking at 
 us with evil eyes, and shoving the loose sand 
 back and forth with his leathery left foot. I 
 knew his dull wit was striving to produce some 
 new and withering speech, and I wondered what 
 it would be. It came soon enough. 
 
 " Is that your girl? " he asked, grinning 
 fiendishly. " Homelier n a stump fence ! "
 
 22O 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING, 
 
 At this unexpected turning of the batteries 
 on me, Mr. Hamlin darted suddenly forward, 
 the boy flying like a dry leaf before him, while 
 I hastened along the road in the other direction. 
 In a moment Mr. Hamlin joined me, rather out 
 of breath. I did not speak, and for some mo 
 ments we walked on in silence. 
 
 " I gave that imp of darkness as thorough a 
 shaking-up as ever he had in his life, I flatter 
 myself," said Mr. Hamlm at last. 
 
 "He is a horrible child," I said vehemently; 
 " how I hate him ! " 
 
 Again we trudged along the dusty road in 
 silence. 
 
 " When we get to the circus " began Mr. 
 Hamlin, casually. 
 
 "What circus?" I demanded, stopping short 
 in the road. 
 
 " The circus at Snow s Falls," he replied. 
 " I supposed that was where you were going, 
 so I thought I d go too."
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 2 2I 
 
 " Of course you knew I was not," I replied. 
 " I was not going anywhere, only away from 
 that dreadful boy. Let us turn back." 
 
 "No," he persisted, "we are going to the 
 circus." 
 
 " I never went to a circus in my life," I said, 
 smiling with pure pleasure and dallying with 
 temptation. 
 
 "You shall not say that to-night," he said easily. 
 
 "Oh, I can t go," I decided virtuously; " Lu- 
 crctia would not like it. Aunt Jane disapproves 
 of the circus. I always fancied it must be nice 
 for that reason. But I must not go." 
 
 " That is nonsense," exclaimed Mr. Hamlin, 
 decidedly. 
 
 He likes his own way. I do not think he 
 cared a whit about my going, in the first place, 
 but because I resisted he was at once deter 
 mined that I should cro. 
 
 o 
 
 " There is no reason at all that you should 
 not cro. It will be a reeular lark. I 11 tell
 
 222 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 Lucretia it was all my fault. Here, I 11 give 
 you three minutes to decide; but remember 
 now, Miss Betty, I shall not respect you at all 
 unless you go." 
 
 His manner angered me, and I turned and 
 walked resolutely away. When I had been 
 walking for what seemed to me ten minutes, I 
 glanced over my shoulder. Then I was lost. 
 My good resolution faded. I retraced my steps 
 shamefacedly. 
 
 " You ought not to make it so hard for me," 
 I said pathetically. 
 
 " One minute," he replied. 
 
 " You are unkind," I declared. " I think you 
 ought to urge me to go back instead " 
 
 " Half a minute," he said. 
 
 " Oh," I cried desperately, " I will go, but I 
 know I shall be sorry." 
 
 " Good child," he said, closing his watch with 
 a snap. 
 
 I knew that I was not good ; but having once
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 223 
 
 decided to follow my evil inclinations, I deter 
 mined not to make myself unhappy by thinking 
 of consequences, and we started off quite merrily 
 upon our three-mile walk. To tell the truth, I 
 was decidedly flattered that Mr. Jack Hamlin 
 should care to ask me to go anywhere with him. 
 He always asks Lucretia, unless he is managed 
 by Mrs. Sparhawk, and then he escorts Miss 
 Alexander. As for me, I am generally left to 
 the company of Bobby and Fred. I suppose, 
 however, that Mr. Hamlin s invitation need not 
 have flattered me, for, as Lucretia said this 
 morning, " of course he would never have dared 
 invite Miss Alexander to so vulgar an entertain 
 ment as a circus." 
 
 After we passed the spot where the road 
 branched to run around the mountain, we began 
 to come upon the country people bound, like 
 ourselves, for the circus. Some were walking, 
 but many had come from the hill farms and 
 rode in shabby wagons, whole families together,
 
 224 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 bent stolidly upon enjoying themselves. They 
 did not look merry at all, but regarded us with 
 dull and vacant eyes. They carried their din 
 ners packed in wooden boxes painted green or 
 blue, and were prepared to thoroughly " see the 
 circus " from beginning to end. 
 
 As we walked on, the sun rode higher and the 
 breeze fell away. The dust from the passing 
 wagons was stifling. Very often we had offers 
 from the kindly drivers: "Pick ye up?" or 
 " Give ye a lift?" but these were refused. Mr. 
 Hamlin was in high spirits, and pretending to 
 be a showman, set forth in absurdly extravagant 
 terms the attractions of the circus. 
 
 " Only think," he added, " I should not have 
 known there was any circus except for Miss 
 Alexander. She knew. Miss Alexander is a 
 most mysterious person. How do you fancy 
 she found out?" 
 
 " I ve given up fancying things about Miss 
 Alexander," I replied, rather ill-temperedly.
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 225 
 
 I could not decently explain to Mr. Hamlin 
 that I believed Miss Alexander to be a humbug, 
 who tried to be strange and odd, just to attract 
 attention. 
 
 " Hark ! " said Mr. Hamlin ; " we must be 
 very near the falls. How loud they sound ! " 
 
 In fact, we were much nearer than we thought. 
 We were then in a deliciously cool and shady 
 bit of maple wood, and as the trees became less 
 crowded, we caught through the trunks the 
 gleaming rush of the falls, and felt a cool mist 
 from the chasm which yawned below. Beyond 
 the road in a broad meadow shone the white 
 tents of the circus, and on the other side of the 
 river the village of Snow s Falls, perched on the 
 ragged side of the gorge. We scrambled eagerly 
 down the chasm until we reached a spot where 
 broad stones were shaded by the trees, which 
 further up hung desperately to the side of the 
 cliff, with half their roots exposed. We rested 
 and became peaceful, while I cooled my face 
 15
 
 226 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 and hands in the clear brown water, and Mr. 
 Hamlin made a hasty sketch of the old Indian 
 Rock, under which, behind the veil of falling 
 water, a party of white settlers had once shel 
 tered themselves and avoided massacre. There 
 was nothing down here but coolness and peace 
 and the sound of the water ; and we were nearly 
 forgetting the object of our visit, when, from 
 above, a harsh and strident voice like a steam- 
 whistle began to shriek out a tune in the sem 
 blance of the "Guards Waltz." 
 
 "What is that?" I said, startled. 
 
 " That," replied Mr. Hamlin, rising promptly 
 and offering me a helping hand, " is the voice 
 of the far-famed calliope, the only perfect 
 imitation of the human voice known to science. 
 It reminds me that we are forgetting the circus. 
 If we do not hurry, we shall not have time for 
 half the side-shows." 
 
 "We are not going to the side-shows?" I 
 said incredulously.
 
 A WOODLAND WOOn\G. 227 
 
 " Every one," replied Mr. Hamlin, as we 
 scrambled up the bank. " I shall spare you 
 nothing, Miss Betty." 
 
 I could not tell always whether Mr. Hamlin 
 were in earnest or in fun, but I soon found that 
 he was in earnest in this. One or two real 
 horrors he did indeed spare me, but for the rest 
 we dutifully visited every booth and tent, and 
 reached the circus proper in the most absurd 
 state of childish laughter and idiocy. 
 
 To tell the truth, it was not much of a circus. 
 At any rate, Mr. Hamlin made fun of it, but I 
 confess that I took a sneaking delight in every 
 thing. Mr. Hamlin declared that the lions were 
 stuffed and the dromedaries moth-eaten. He 
 jeered at the poor old tiger, and advised the 
 elephant to buy a rubber blanket and make 
 himself a new cover. 
 
 " Look ! " he exclaimed, with sudden glee ; 
 " there are Adaline and the bicycle fellow, over 
 by the dromedaries."
 
 228 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 I was just looking to behold this wonder, when 
 I was suddenly greeted by a rich, good-humored 
 voice behind us. 
 
 "Why, how de do? Who d a thought now 
 o your comin to circus ! Haint this a good 
 joke, our meetin of you?" 
 
 It was Mrs. Butterfield, fat and jovial, with all 
 her numerous family straggling after her, from 
 the greatest to the least. She was warm and 
 ruddy and panting. She wore a gown of green 
 and black plaids, and an ample visite of thin, 
 shiny black silk. A wide collar, fastened by a 
 pin containing hair, had slipped around until 
 the brooch was under her left ear. Her hair 
 was coming unfastened, and one auburn lock 
 had fallen down her back from under her bonnet. 
 With her vigorous right elbow she was valiantly 
 forcing her way through the crowd, while her 
 left hand, enclosed in a black silk mitt, grasped 
 the wrist of Hiram Butterfield. The rest of the 
 children followed like bobs to a kite-tail.
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 229 
 
 " Wai," she said, "who would a thought of 
 seein you to circus ! Mr. Dexter s here, too. 
 He s just took Adaline to see the beasts. Ye 
 know he s ben stoppin to our house a spell. 
 He says on count o the view, though I never 
 did think we lived in a very stylish place, sot on 
 by the mountains as we be. He rides all day 
 and evcnin s, too; we don t see much of him. 
 He don t make no trouble at all." 
 
 " What sort of a crank do you take him for? " 
 muttered Mr. Hamlin in my ear. 
 
 " We re goin to make a day of it," continued 
 Mrs. Butterfield. " Started out at five o clock 
 this mornin so s to git here in season to see 
 circus come in. Goin to stop to the evenin 
 show and spend the night at his brother Elna- 
 than s, at the Falls. Land o Goshcn ! " she 
 added, with her easy chuckle ; " did ye ever 
 see the beat of this crowd? It doos seem as if 
 we should n t never git sight o them monkeys. 
 Almiry, you jest hang holt of Eva May, now."
 
 230 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 She stopped, and failing of the monkeys, drew 
 up her line before the den of the unhappy polar 
 bear. 
 
 " Wai," she remarked, " you don t look not 
 to say sociable. How do ye like bein kep on 
 ice?" 
 
 The great bear regarded her viciously from 
 his sulky red eyes, but did not cease for a mo 
 ment the restless swinging from side to side of 
 his small head. He did not appear to be 
 strongly reminded of his polar home by the 
 presence in his cage of a piece of ice about 
 large enough for a water-cooler. 
 
 " Don t he look terrible ugly though?" asked 
 Mrs. Butterficld. " Lands ! I m glad I aint 
 his keeper. Did I tell ye what a time we had 
 gittin here? Wagon broke down just after we 
 got apast the Turner Road. T was broke last 
 cattle-fair time, but he d sort o mended of it 
 up somehow with a piece o rope, and said he 
 guessed t would hold ; but this load was a leetle
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 231 
 
 too much for it, and down we went, I tell ye. 
 He d to untackle and hide the team behind the 
 alder bushes in Harskill s medder. We d to 
 foot it into the village, him a leadin of old 
 Lucy." 
 
 She laughed at the recollection, and fanned 
 herself with a " Short History of the Life of the 
 Living Skeleton, including some of his Songs 
 and gests." 
 
 " What a beastly crowd ! " Mr. Hamlin said, 
 successfully defending me from a pointed para 
 sol which was prodding wildly and vindic 
 tively about in the throng to clear a passage 
 for its owner into the now closely packed circus 
 tent. 
 
 " My good woman, be careful, if you please. 
 You almost hit this young lady in the face." 
 
 " Don t call me your good woman, " said an 
 acid female voice. " I Ve earned and paid for 
 my own ticket to this show. I aint nowise 
 beholden to nobody, and I in agoin to git in,
 
 232 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 and hev as good a seat as the next one, too, or 
 my name aint Lizy Doble." 
 
 As she gave a final vigorous punch with her 
 sunshade and was engulfed in the crowd, Mrs. 
 Butterfield gave a tolerant laugh. 
 
 o o 
 
 " Poor Lizy Ann," she said ; " she don t hev 
 no one to look out for her. The poor critter s 
 ahvers had a hard time of it, fendin for herself, 
 and she jest goes through life with all her sharp 
 corners stickin out to purtect herself. What s 
 the matter with Eva May?" she added, looking 
 back along the straggling line of Butterfields 
 to where the wailing Eva May brought up the 
 rear. 
 
 " She wants to see the Hairy Girl," piped 
 Andrew Jackson across the crowd. 
 
 " Tut, tut ! " exclaimed Mrs. Butterfield, in 
 mellow tones of reproach. " Why, now, Eva 
 May, I m real mortified at ye. Anybody d 
 think a little gell that had seen a double-headed 
 calf an an Injy- rubber man an a nice living
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 233 
 
 skeleton all in one day had ought to be satis 
 fied. An there s Father gone off to buy some- 
 thin nice to eat ; an here s Lysander goin 
 to wait by the tent door a purpose to catch him 
 an bring him where we re a settin ." 
 
 Eva May being by this time brought to the 
 front, tear-stained and dishevelled, her mother 
 stopped, regardless of the elbowing throng 
 about her, to wipe the child s wet face and 
 twitch down her pink calico frock. 
 
 " There," she said, " now be a good gell an 
 stop your crying. Don t ye give one more 
 sithe. Think o the splendid show you re 
 agoin to see. Look, here s our Hiram goin 
 to give ye one o his lozengers ; spearmint, too ; 
 ye know ye love spearmint lozengers." 
 
 At this moment we were borne away from 
 the Butterficld family by the swaying crowd, 
 and we saw them no more. 
 
 After we were safely seated, Mr. Jack Hamlin 
 suddenly became silent. He made no more
 
 234 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 jests, and if I turned to speak to him, I found 
 him regarding me with a curious glance that I 
 could not understand. 
 
 "What is it?" I asked, involuntarily putting 
 up my hands to straighten my hat. " Am I 
 very untidy? You know I was not dressed at 
 all to go anywhere." 
 
 " It is not that," he said, still looking at me ; 
 " it is only that I am a selfish brute. I had 
 no business to persuade you to come to the 
 circus. They 11 all be down on you when we 
 get back." 
 
 " Oh, I shall not mind," I said cheerfully; " I 
 don t care a bit for Lucretia s scoldings." 
 
 " It is not only Lucretia who will disapprove," 
 he returned. " They will all be down on you, 
 and it is entirely my fault." 
 
 " I 11 go home now if you wish," I said 
 reluctantly. 
 
 "We may as well stay, now we are here," he 
 replied ; then he laughed suddenly.
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 235 
 
 " I believe you actually care about this beg 
 garly circus ! " he exclaimed. 
 
 I did care, though Mr. Jack Hamlin despised 
 it. I liked it all. Everything was new to me, 
 and I laughed at even the clown s stale jests, 
 and was completely deceived by the time-worn 
 trick of the unbroken donkey. I was really 
 sorry when the "show" was over, and we were 
 once more on the dusty road which led toward 
 home. Before we started on our long walk, 
 Mr. Hamlin insisted on getting me some re 
 freshment. He left me in the cool beech wood 
 while he crossed the bridge to the " village 
 
 o o 
 
 store." He had been gone some time when a 
 crashing of the bushes on the bank startled me. 
 I was afraid some rough fellow from the circus 
 grounds had seen me, and my breath came 
 easier when I saw the dark young man who 
 rode the bicycle. 
 
 " I beg your pardon," he said, raising his hat, 
 " but you see I remembered that we were com-
 
 236 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 panions in misfortune the day of the thunder 
 storm. I wonder if I dare ask a great favor of 
 you." 
 
 He had taken off his hat; and as he stood 
 leaning against a beech-tree and looking down 
 upon me, I thought I had never imagined so 
 handsome a man. 
 
 " You do not look very stony-hearted," he 
 said* 
 
 " I would do it," I said, blushing stupidly, " if 
 I were sure 
 
 " There is no harm in it," he said quickly ; 
 "see, it is only to give this note, quite privately, 
 to Miss Alexander, at the camp." 
 
 "To Miss Alexander !" I exclaimed in sur 
 prise by no means well-bred. 
 
 " If you will be so very kind," he said, hand 
 ing me the letter, which was written on a sheet 
 torn from a note-book. 
 
 " May I also ask you to add to my obligation 
 by letting this be a secret, a secret a trois f "
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 237 
 
 " I will not tell," I said stupidly. 
 
 I could not think of anything graceful to say. 
 I was surprised and startled, and felt more than 
 ever before like an awkward, clumsy country 
 girl. Suddenly, before I knew it, the young 
 man bent and kissed my hand. 
 
 "You are so good," he said devoutly. "Keep 
 the faith," and crashed away through the bushes. 
 Mr. Hamlin appeared at the same moment with 
 his hands full of packages. 
 
 " All the luxuries of the season," he began 
 gayly. 
 
 Then he stopped abruptly, looking from me 
 to the disappearing figure of the stranger. 
 
 " What did he want? Did he speak to you? " 
 he demanded. 
 
 " Yes, he spoke," I said, blushing under my 
 questioner s unco_mfortably keen eyes. " He 
 did not say much." 
 
 " I wish to know what he said to you," said 
 Mr. Jack Hamlin, imperiously.
 
 238 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 "I shall not tell," I said sternly. "I I 
 promised not." 
 
 " You promised that fellow," said Mr. Ham- 
 lin, incredulously. 
 
 " Yes," I said ; " it was no harm, and it con 
 cerns I will not tell you anything about it," I 
 broke off angrily. " You stand there as if you 
 were my judge. I shall not say another word 
 about it." 
 
 " Very well, do exactly as you please," said 
 Mr. Hamlin, coldly. 
 
 He sat down, but he was quite white and 
 grim, and his eyebrows were drawn together in 
 an ugly frown. He opened his various parcels, 
 but there was no longer any fun about the little 
 picnic. I was too disturbed to eat, and we soon 
 gave it up and started silently for home. I was 
 unhappy enough, but I could not break my 
 promise; and after all, Mr. Jack Hamlin had no 
 right to question me as if he were my father. 
 We plodded along the sunny, warm high-road
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 239 
 
 for about a mile in most uncomfortable com 
 panionship ; then a wagon overtook us. It 
 contained only a farmer and his sallow, tired 
 wife. 
 
 " Won t you have a lift ? " asked the woman. 
 " We re goin along quite a piece, way past 
 the Farrar dcestrick." 
 
 "Thank you," said Mr. Hamlin ; "I think 
 this young lady will be very glad to ride. I 
 am sure you must be tired of walking," he 
 added with a peculiar emphasis, turning to me. 
 
 " I should be very glad to ride," I said 
 viciously. 
 
 If Mr. Jack Hamlin wished to be rid of me, 
 at least he should not find it a difficult task. 
 In a moment I was in the wagon, and Mr. 
 Hamlin, lifting his hat rather too deferentially, 
 had started off at a pace which promised to 
 bring him into camp long before me.
 
 240 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 WHAT BETTY SAYS. 
 
 " WHERE do they keep the sun when it 
 rains?" asked Bevis Sparhawk, plaintively ; and 
 some older persons than Bevis wondered how 
 Nature could get up so complete a transforma 
 tion in so short a time. The hapless day of the 
 circus was clear and warm and gracious ; the 
 next day dawned gray and cold, with a lowering 
 sky, and a raw wind that chilled one to the 
 marrow. The camp-fire was the only cheerful 
 feature of the landscape, and around this we 
 all huddled, pretending to be neither cold nor 
 hungry. Mrs. Sparhawk wrote a letter upon 
 thin foreign paper. Mrs. Winthrop tried to 
 mend her husband s stockings, her fingers stiff 
 with cold. Some read, and some played whist. 
 Miss Alexander played chess with Mr. Hamlin.
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 241 
 
 She did not look blue and pinched like the rest 
 of us. She looked unusually fascinating. She 
 wore a warm gown of dark blue and red in wide 
 stripes, and had a boyish jacket and a little fez 
 of knitted silk. Mr. Hamlin was almost hidden 
 in his ulster, and looked cross and dismal. 
 
 As for me, I not only was frowned upon by 
 the weather, but by everybody in the camp. 
 Everybody disapproved of me, and I felt that I 
 had done a deed only once removed from mur 
 der, in going to the circus. Lucretia had been 
 " shocked," and Mrs. Winthrop " surprised," 
 and Mrs. Dudley knew I would be ill. Mrs. 
 Sparhawk majestically disapproved of me, and 
 Josephine was spiteful. Miss Alexander told 
 me I was a " darling love," when I delivered my 
 private despatch ; and Mr. Hamlin, after freeing 
 me from the responsibility of our escapade, had 
 entirely ignored me, as if by speaking to the 
 bicycle man I had forever lowered myself in 
 his royal favor. The children only remained 
 1 6
 
 242 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 my friends, and I was reduced to the not very 
 lively amusement of tracing pictures on Rodney s 
 transparent slate for his edification. 
 
 " A salad," said Colonel Sparhawk, from the 
 other side of the fire, "should never be cut. 
 Upon my soul, sir, when I see a vandal touch 
 a knife to a plate of lettuce or cress, I I want 
 to annihilate him, sir; I do, upon my word." 
 
 " I wonder," said mild Mrs. Winthrop, from 
 her mending, " why it is that we all have such a 
 tendency to talk about food. It seems to be 
 almost the only subject that really interests us." 
 
 " It is because we are starving," said Emily 
 Dudley, boldly but hoarsely. " We have n t 
 had anything real to eat for three weeks. We 
 all of us loathe eggs and abhor fish, only we 
 don t dare to say so; and we are starving for a 
 bit of meat, only we d die before we owned it." 
 
 She sneezed violently several times, and was 
 pounced upon by her mother and borne away 
 to be dosed.
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 243 
 
 " She has told the truth," said Mr. Winthrop, 
 with tragic solemnity; "we are starving." 
 
 "Is that true?" asked Mr. Hamlin ; " are we 
 starving? Are you starving, Miss Betty? " 
 
 He had not spoken to me before that day, 
 and he turned to me so suddenly that he took 
 away my breath. 
 
 " Yes," I admitted coldly, " I am like the 
 rest." 
 
 He turned back to his chess looking as cross 
 as ever. Rodney Sparhawk, having been sent 
 to his mother s desk for a postage-stamp, now 
 appeared gracefully bearing one upon the tip of 
 his outstretched tongue. 
 
 " All licked, Mamma ! " he announced with 
 cheerful vulgarity. 
 
 " I say, Betty," called Bob, " how much did 
 our turkey weigh last Thanksgiving? He was 
 a buster, I tell you. Don t I just wish we had 
 him now, though ! " 
 
 The day grew every minute more chill and
 
 244 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 dismal. Mr. Hamlin, having finished his game, 
 disappeared. Lucretia and Josephine sought 
 for comfort in the tent. Bobby and Fred re 
 plenished the fire, and then challenged me to a 
 game of " stick knife." It was after quite half 
 an hour s silence that Mrs. Sparhawk looked 
 up abstractedly. 
 
 " Does anybody smell smoke? " she asked, 
 " not the fire, but as if cloth of some sort were 
 burning? Colonel, go and see if either of your 
 children is afire. Pray do not sit there in that 
 unconcerned manner, as if you did not care." 
 
 The Colonel looked up and dropped his 
 cards. 
 
 " Why, my dear life ! " he exclaimed, " you are 
 burning yourself. I assure you the tail of your 
 gown is all afire." 
 
 A thin blue line of smoke was indeed rising 
 over Mrs. Sparhawk s left shoulder, and her 
 gown was really smouldering. It was extin 
 guished in a moment, and Mrs. Sparhawk s face
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 245 
 
 was as completely unruffled as if the occurrence 
 were too commonplace to rouse even surprise. 
 
 "Wodncy did it! Wodncy did it! " shouted 
 Bevis, with all the holy joy of bringing a crimi 
 nal to justice. " Wodney had a catty-nintle, and 
 he sticked it in the fire and so he blazed your 
 dress, he did." 
 
 The Colonel, more angry than he was often 
 seen, bore Rodney away to meet some unknown 
 awful fate, while Bevis looked on with placid 
 approval. 
 
 "I wouldn t burn you, would I, Mamma?" 
 he asked, with the conscious virtue of one child 
 who beholds another in disgrace. 
 
 " Yes, I dare say you would," answered his 
 mother ; " in fact, I dare say you did do it, 
 just now, and not Rodney at all. Where is 
 Rodney? " 
 
 " In the dining tent," replied Bevis, with un 
 mistakable relish. " I guess Papa 11 give him 
 a norful wippin ."
 
 246 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 " You nasty little vindictive thing ! " Mrs. 
 Sparhavvk exclaimed. " Go at once and tell 
 Papa that I will not have Rodney punished. It 
 will ruin his disposition. Hurry, or I will tell 
 him to give you a good beating." 
 
 Thus spurred on, Bevis flew away, losing off 
 his little red fez and dropping a cherished lapful 
 of stones. His place was taken at once by Mr. 
 Jack Hamlin. 
 
 " To Starvation Camp with the compliments 
 of the archer," he said, and tossed down upon 
 the wet grass half a dozen well-grown fowls. 
 
 They were plainly domestic, were still in their 
 feathers, and each one was pierced through the 
 neck with mathematical precision by a Highfield 
 arrow of the very best sort. 
 
 " Where did they come from? " cried a chorus 
 of voices. 
 
 " They came from the farm," replied Mr. 
 Hamlin, boldly. " There is no game anywhere 
 else. It is all right. I did n t steal them."
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 247 
 
 " Oh, of course not," said Mr. Winthrop ; 
 " but," he added feebly, " the rule of our camp, 
 you know, did you shoot them? " 
 
 " Of course he did," Mr. Dudley put in 
 sharply; "can t you see the arrows?" 
 
 Involuntarily every person about the fire ex 
 changed sneaking glances with every other. 
 Guilt was written plainly upon every counte 
 nance. A painful silence fell upon us. It was 
 broken by Rodney Sparhawk, who appeared 
 cheerful and unharmed from his encounter with 
 his father. 
 
 " I would like all the drumsticks, if you 
 please; and Bevis can have the necks," he re 
 marked generously. 
 
 "Is he not a nasty little pig?" cried Mrs. 
 Sparhawk ; " but do we not all feel exactly like 
 him? " 
 
 " I would propose," said Mrs. Winthrop, " a 
 luncheon of coffee and bread and cheese, and 
 then a nice hot dinner at four or five o clock."
 
 248 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 This being unanimously agreed upon, some 
 plates of wilted hardbread and a box of mouldy 
 cheese were produced. These Mr. Winthrop 
 persisted in calling " the relics," and indeed the 
 sight of them has become tolerably familiar. 
 However, by the aid of hot coffee, we did our 
 duty, and declared that we had enjoyed our 
 luncheon. Who would not be amiable with 
 those blissful chickens in view? 
 
 " I would n t be ungallant for the world," 
 remarked Theodore, mildly; "but perhaps you 
 may have heard what class of people don t know 
 enough to go in when it rains." 
 
 " Why, so it is raining, really ! " cried every 
 body. 
 
 The mist had thickened to a steady drizzle. 
 
 " Let us go to the dining tent and play 
 games," proposed Arthur Winthrop. " I know 
 a very amusing thing, very laughable. We used 
 to do it at church sociables." 
 
 " It must be highly amusing, then," grumbled
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 249 
 
 Ted ; but we all rose and bore wraps and books 
 into the tent. 
 
 " Now," began Arthur, cheerfully beaming 
 upon us through his blinking glasses, " this is a 
 game of sneezing, you know. We will begin at 
 the end of the row. You, Fred, must say hish, 
 Lucretia must say hash, and Betty must say 
 hosh. Miss Alexander must say hish, and 
 so on all around. I 11 drop my handkerchief, 
 and then you must all speak together." 
 
 " Hosh ! " said Mr. Dudley, loudly and 
 prematurely. 
 
 " I had not dropped the handkerchief," said 
 Arthur, looking mildly reproachful. " Now, be 
 ready, everybody." 
 
 The handkerchief dropped, and a chorus of 
 hishes and hoshes filled the air. Silence fol 
 lowed, during which we all gazed vaguely at 
 each other. 
 
 "What do we do next?" asked Mr. Hamlin, 
 briskly.
 
 250 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 "You don t do anything next," replied Arthur, 
 " that s it; that s the game." 
 
 " Oh," said Mr. Hamlin, blandly. 
 
 " Don t you see? " poor Arthur urged, becom 
 ing rather pink in the face; "it represents a 
 gigantic sneeze." 
 
 " Very amusing, I m sure," ventured Miss 
 Alexander, smiling. 
 
 " I think I 11 go and take a siesta," said Mrs. 
 Sparhawk, cruelly. " Rodney, you and Bevis 
 may come, too." 
 
 Mrs. Sparhawk s example was followed by 
 the older ladies and Emily Dudley. The rest 
 of us remained to play a stupid game called 
 " Doctrines," which was also under the leader 
 ship of ArthurWinthrop ; indeed, Arthur chiefly 
 excelled in games. Finally even our patience 
 was exhausted. We withdrew, leaving the gen 
 tlemen to their own devices. It was now raining 
 steadily, and in our big tent we found Mrs. Spar- 
 hawk reading a German novel. Pretty Bevis
 
 A WOODLAND IVOOIXG. 
 
 251 
 
 was asleep in a hammock, while Rodney on the 
 floor was peacefully cutting dogs and horses 
 out of his mother s prayer-book. Emily Dudley 
 sat huddled up on her little bed with her water 
 proof about her. She was trying to read, but 
 looked out of temper and thoroughly disgusted 
 with life. As we came in she shut her book 
 with a clap. 
 
 " I am tired of it," she said vehemently. " I 
 am tired of sleeping on damp straw, with a 
 grasshopper down my neck and a spider in 
 my ear. I m tired of pretending that my feet 
 are not wet and my face is not burnt to a blister. 
 I am sick of eating bugs and drinking caterpil 
 lars. I hate the very sight of fish, and I never 
 want to see another egg as long as I live. I 
 won t pretend any longer. I want to go home, 
 and I want to go now. There ! " 
 
 We could not have been more taken off our 
 feet if old Sippican had spoken. It was so un 
 expected an outburst to come from sensible,
 
 252 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 matter-of-fact Emily Dudley, that we simply 
 stood in a group and stared at her. 
 
 " Where is your mother? " weakly asked 
 Josephine at length. 
 
 " Gone to help Mrs. Winthrop with the chick 
 ens," replied Emily, stonily; " but you need not 
 call her. I am not sick. I am only tired of 
 starving in this nasty camp." 
 
 " Your sentiments do you credit," laughed 
 Mrs. Sparhawk. " You feel exactly as we all 
 do, only nobody else has the courage to speak. 
 I admire you." 
 
 " Cheer up, Emmy," said Lucretia, " I have 
 just had a piece of news. We are all invited to 
 a dance in a new barn, at the Bascoms , beyond 
 the mountain. Won t that be fine for Thursday 
 night?" 
 
 " I thought it was Wednesday," said Miss 
 Alexander. 
 
 " Why, how could you know anything about 
 it?" asked Lucretia, with astonished blue eyes.
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 253 
 
 " Bobby this minute brought down the invita 
 tion from the farm-house." 
 
 " I meant that I wished it were Wednesday 
 night," corrected Miss Alexander, flushing 
 oddly.
 
 254 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 XX. 
 
 WHAT BOB SAYS. 
 
 BETTY need n t brag so. She puts on great 
 airs that she has written more than I have, and 
 all that; but she didn t have to spend all her 
 time fishing and getting berries, as Fred and I 
 have. Beside, Betty need n t feel so everlasting 
 big for her writing, for she has n t told every 
 thing just as it happened. Hamlin gave me a 
 first-class jointed fishing-rod, and Fred said he 
 only did it because he was spooney about Betty. 
 I never thought anybody could get spooney over 
 her, and I don t more than half believe it now; 
 but, all the same, she is n t honest Injun when 
 she writes, for she leaves out about Mr. Hamlin, 
 the lilies he brought her, and the rows in the 
 punt, and candy from New York her birthday 
 She does n t tell everything.
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 255 
 
 \Ve ve had one square meal ; brown fricassee 
 of chicken, and baked potatoes, green corn, 
 shelled beans and hot biscuit, apple-pie and 
 cheese and coffee, the first meat we ve seen 
 for weeks, and perhaps we were n t hungry, 
 though ! Betty says not to tell what we have 
 to eat; says it s vulgar; but I took notice she 
 was glad enough to eat her share of the chicken. 
 
 I took a note round the mountain to the 
 bicycle fellow from Miss Alexander. She cried 
 and said I was her only friend. It was out be 
 hind the dining tent. I felt like a fool, but I 
 took the note. Something is queer about it all. 
 \Ve are going to a barn dance. She makes a 
 fellow do just as she wants him to.
 
 256 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING, 
 
 XXI. 
 
 WHAT BETTY SAYS. 
 
 " I NEVER can get in," sighed Josephine ; 
 " never in the world." 
 
 " Oh," encouraged Lucretia, " yes, you can. 
 It is not high at all, and the straw is lovely." 
 
 We were all piling, with much fun and 
 laughter, into the Farrars big hay-rack. Mrs. 
 Farrar, a meek and depressed-looking woman, 
 was already seated, while her husband stood 
 ready to drive the stout, bony gray horses. 
 
 " Come," urged Fred, bluntly, " hurry up, Jo. 
 We have n t too much time, and barn dances 
 don t wait for anybody. Here, I 11 boost you." 
 
 " Go away, Fred," said Josephine, sharply ; 
 but she took Arthur Winthrop s hand, and, with 
 some lady-like small shrieks, at length was in 
 and seated.
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 257 
 
 Rodney and Bcvis sat on either side of me. 
 
 " Don t you think I m very still? " the former 
 askecl, before we were fairly started. 
 
 " Why, yes, Rodney," I assented. 
 
 " I Ve got to be still for a whole hour," he 
 answered sadly. " Then Mr. Hamlin will give 
 me a silver dollar. Me said he would." 
 
 " I 11 be still for five hundred dollars," put in 
 Bevis, promptly, rising heavily over Rodney s 
 price. 
 
 " Annie Alexander," exclaimed Mrs. Spar- 
 hawk, " I asked you to wear your white wool 
 gown, and there you are, as prim as a nun, in 
 that dark-gray." 
 
 " I thought this was more suitable," answered 
 Miss Alexander, pleasantly, as she drew on her 
 long, gray Swedish gloves. 
 
 She rose presently and came over to me, dis 
 placing Bevis, who openly objected. It was 
 already quite dusky, so that we could scarcely 
 see from end to end of the cart. 
 17
 
 2 5 8 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 " Miss Betty," said Miss Alexander, softly, 
 " we are going to break camp to-morrow, you 
 know, and I shall be going away. You have n t 
 liked me very well, but I took a fancy to you 
 the first time I ever saw you. I have few 
 friends, and my life is not very happy. You 
 have been kind to me, and I think you did not 
 like the secrecy of that note; but, indeed, it 
 was necessary. I am so persecuted and so un 
 happy. I do not want you to quite forget me, 
 child. You must wear this. I brought it home 
 from Rome. Please do not say no ; I am so 
 miserable, so frightened." 
 
 She rose, and hastily returned to her seat by 
 the side of Mr. Hamlin. A moment later I 
 heard her teaching him a Spanish song, and 
 laughing quite merrily over his bad pronuncia 
 tion. She had put a ring on the third finger of 
 my hand. I could just see it in the dusk, and 
 it felt rough with engraving. I did not wish to 
 make a scene in the hay-cart, but I promised
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 259 
 
 myself that I would give it back as soon as we 
 reached the barn. I did not want any of her 
 rings or her mysteries. 
 
 It was a delicious evening, dry and warm. 
 The air was full of wild scents of elder and rank 
 brakes and sweet-fern. Later the moon would 
 come, but then it was dusk, which deepened to 
 midnight whenever we passed through a wood. 
 Along the sides of the road the fireflies were 
 holding a glittering dance on their own account. 
 
 " Cuddle me up," said Bevis, tumbling sud 
 denly into my lap ; " I m fraid o the bears." 
 
 " I m goin to holler awful loud when I get 
 me silver dollar," presently confided Rodney, 
 who really had been surprisingly well-behaved 
 for him. 
 
 " Oh, Rodney," I said entreatingly. 
 
 "And squeal," said Rodney, with the joy of 
 coming triumph in his voice, " and stamp and 
 run all wound and wound, and do a norful lot of 
 kinds of things; you wait and see."
 
 2 6o A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 " Me, too," said Bevis ; " I 11 do some norful 
 things, too." 
 
 I did not doubt the children s ability, but I 
 was prevented from delivering them a lecture 
 by our arrival at the farm. The great new barn 
 towered white in the dusk, and the farmer came 
 out to meet us. 
 
 " How de do? How de do? " he said cordially. 
 " Glad to see yer. We haint goin to make no 
 strangers of ye. Come right in, all on ye, and 
 make yourselves to home." 
 
 Within the barn a fiddle was twanging, played 
 by a weazened old man sitting on a barrel. 
 There were neither cattle nor hay. The barn 
 was quite new, and smelled of sweet pine-wood. 
 There were candles everywhere in bottles, and 
 upon boards pierced with rows of holes. The 
 two great doors stood open to the wide, cool 
 night. From the back door we saw the orchard, 
 and behind the dark, rustling trees we saw the 
 great red moon just rising.
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 26 1 
 
 As we went in, a dozen pairs of young people 
 were dancing a " French Four." Some farmers 
 wives sat on rude benches against the wall, and 
 a group of men stood talking by the door. Fred 
 came at once to ask me to dance, and we were 
 soon merrily flying " down the centre." 
 
 Adaline Butterfield, smiling and awkward, 
 was next me in the long line. She told 
 me regretfully that " the boarder " had gone 
 back to the Gorge, but had " given mother 
 an elegant shawl," and herself " a pair of ear 
 rings." 
 
 The " French Four " was followed by a " Bos 
 ton Fancy," and that by a " Virginia Reel." We 
 became hilarious, and sometimes went not only 
 " down the centre" of the barn, but rushed pell- 
 mell into the dewy field outside. 
 
 Lucretia and Josephine considered such dan 
 cing rude, but I am hoyden enough to enjoy a 
 dance that has some life in it. I danced chiefly 
 with Bobby and Fred, Mr. Jack Hamlin stood
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 leaning against the wall looking cross. Miss 
 Alexander danced, and in spite of her dull gray 
 gown was the most brilliant woman in the room. 
 Her cheeks were as pink as a sea-shell, and her 
 eyes had a lovely starry look. 
 
 Presently I found myself standing by the 
 door, after a wild polka with Bob. Mr. Hamlin 
 came across and joined me. 
 
 "What are you thinking? " I asked. 
 
 " Of what happens to the best-laid plans," he 
 answered. 
 
 " Have your plans gone agley? " 
 
 " Did n t you know they had? " 
 
 "Why, no," I said stupidly ; " how did they? " 
 
 " I will tell you going home," he" said, " if you 
 do not have the entire Sparhawk family in your 
 lap. I may be able to sit next you." 
 
 " You can talk if you do not sit next me," I 
 said cheerfully. " I m sure I talked to Bobby 
 all the way over, and he sat quite at the other 
 end of the cart."
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 263 
 
 " I heard you," he said dryly. " I don t care 
 to shout." 
 
 Just at this moment up came Rodney Spar- 
 hawk begging me to dance with him. 
 
 " Why, Rodney," said his mother, " you do 
 not know how to dance. What are you think 
 ing of? " 
 
 " Yes, I do know how," insisted Rodney, 
 stoutly. " I know swing pardners and down 
 the centre. " 
 
 " Rodney, this is all nonsense," declared Mrs. 
 Sparhawk, decidedly. " Once for all, I forbid 
 your trying to dance. Do you understand?" 
 
 " If you don t let me," said Rodney, calmly, 
 " I m afraid I shall holler and roar and run be 
 tween the dancing people, and knock em all 
 down." 
 
 Mrs. Sparhawk adjusted her eyeglasses and 
 gazed a moment at her son. 
 
 " Very well, you disagreeable child," she said, 
 " go along then and make a nasty little guy of
 
 264 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 yourself, and set everybody laughing at you, if 
 you want to. I only hope you may not kill 
 Miss Betty." 
 
 Indeed, Rodney did make a guy, not only of 
 himself but of me ; for he knew none of the 
 changes, and had to "be pushed and pulled about 
 in a shameful manner. He enjoyed himself 
 immensely, however, and went down the centre 
 riotously, usually tumbling down at the end and 
 being ignominiously picked up and set on end 
 again by the nearest person. I was still alive 
 when the dance ended, but not much more. 
 
 " I have been observing the various elegant 
 ways of inviting a lady to dance," said Mr. Ham- 
 lin, strolling up to me as I sat quite exhausted 
 on the bench by the door. 
 
 " And how do they do it? " inquired Mrs. 
 Sparhawk, joining us. " Miss Betty, please 
 have my fan. I am sure you are in a fainting 
 condition." 
 
 " One gentleman," said Mr. Hamlin, " crooks
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 265 
 
 his elbow and offers his arm without a word ; 
 another that white-haired one with the green 
 cravat says, Dance longer me? and a third 
 says, Darse to dance this dance with me? I 
 have watched the last gentleman through a Vir 
 ginia reel, and I admit that it does require a 
 certain amount of courage to be his partner." 
 
 " How unique ! " said Mrs. Sparhawk, only 
 faintly amused. " Have you seen Miss Alex 
 ander lately? I am forgetting that I am her 
 chaperone." 
 
 " She is by the other door with Ted," he 
 replied indifferently. 
 
 " What is the matter with my crimps, Betty, 
 can you sec?" asked Josephine, who had been 
 trying to polka with Arthur Winthrop. 
 
 " You seem to have a pair of eyeglasses 
 tangled in your hair," said Mrs. Sparhawk, non 
 chalantly, as if the thing were of common 
 occurrence. 
 
 "How detestable!" said Josephine, without
 
 266 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 smiling. "They are Arthur Winthrop s. He is 
 blind as a bat without them, and he is too ab 
 surdly polite to ask me for them. How silly 
 he is ! " 
 
 After much dancing there was a supper in 
 the big farm kitchen, and not long after, our 
 hay-rack was announced as ready for the home 
 ward trip. 
 
 "Pile in," shouted Bobby, jovially; "I ve 
 shaken up the cushions, and the chariot is ready. 
 They Ve given us heaps of apples." 
 
 "Look out for worms, though," suggested 
 Fred, unpleasantly; "eating early apples in the 
 dark is n t what it s cracked up to be." 
 
 There was some attempt at singing as we 
 started away, but presently we grew sleepy and 
 silent. Bevis came to me and went to sleep in 
 my arms. Rodney insisted on driving. 
 
 " Rodney Sparhawk," cried his mother, " if 
 you run over my feet once more I 11 assassinate 
 you. Come away from the reins at once, and
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 267 
 
 stop troubling Mr. Farrar. Do you hear me? 
 Rodney Sparhawk, why don t you answer me? " 
 
 " I m not listening to you at all, Mamma," 
 replied Rodney, serenely; " I am looking at the 
 moon." 
 
 Mrs. Sparhawk sighed and composed herself 
 for a nap. 
 
 We came after a time to the Butterfield farm, 
 where we had taken refuge from the storm. 
 Late as it was, the house door stood open, and 
 the light from within streaming out into the 
 yard showed a group standing about a chaise, 
 from which the horse had been taken. 
 
 " Somebody must be sick," said Mrs. Dudley. 
 " Let us stop." 
 
 " They must be in some trouble," Mrs. Win- 
 throp agreed. " Some of you young and active 
 ones had better see if we can be of any help." 
 
 We found the entire Butterfield family in the 
 yard, except Adaline, who was to pass the night 
 at the farm where the dance \vas given. Even
 
 2 68 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 the shy Elnathan had come forth, owl-like, under 
 cover of the night. In the shadow of the chaise- 
 top we could see by the moonlight a small old 
 woman in a decent black bonnet and shawl. 
 She was sitting stiffly upright, with folded hands 
 and a forbidding expression of countenance. 
 
 " It is his mother," explained Mrs. Butterfield, 
 in a low tone. " She stops about to her differ 
 ent children s, a spell here an a spell there. 
 She haint raly well-wittcd by times ; not that 
 she s crazy, but she s notionate, an , wal, 
 she s sort o cur us, mother is. She gits an 
 idea in her head, an then she sorter can t seem 
 to git red of it." 
 
 "What is the matter with her now?" inquired 
 Bobby. 
 
 " Wal, ye see she s come over to stop a spell 
 along of us. Elnathan went over to his Aunt 
 Emma Jane s ternoon to fetch her. They got 
 here jest at tea-time, an Mother, she s took a 
 notion not to stir from that shay. Elnathan,
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 269 
 
 he s ontacklcd, an we Ve all ben a coaxin of 
 her in ever sence six o clock, an there that 
 contr y old lady has sot an sot, as cf she d 
 took root." 
 
 " Maria," said the old woman, suddenly in 
 terrupting, " go into the house. You make me 
 fidgety." 
 
 " But, Mother," urged Mrs. Butterfield, " the 
 dew is rale heavy, an it s a cool night. You 11 
 have rheumatics to-morrow, sure as preachin ." 
 
 " If I do, Maria," returned the old woman, 
 with dignity, " it will be my own lookout, 
 Maria." 
 
 " But, Granny, you are keepin us out-doors 
 all night," urged Elnathan. 
 
 " I am not awcer," said the grandmother, with 
 rigid politeness, " that I have asked any of you 
 to stop out o door. If I hev, will somebody 
 please to tell me?" 
 
 " Come, Mother, come," said poor Mrs. But 
 terfield, "it s nigh onto midnight, an a nice
 
 270 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 bed all made an waitin for ye in the parlor 
 bedroom." 
 
 " I m puffeckly comfortable where I be, Ma 
 ria, an I don t know why I should n t stay here." 
 
 " Mother made sweet cake an blueberry pie 
 a purpose for ye," put in one of the children, 
 " an she s cut into a new sage-cheese, an kep 
 the tea on all this time." 
 
 " If I have lived," said the old lady, frigidly, 
 " to have the few things that my own folks do 
 for me throwed up in my face, I may ez wal go 
 to the Poor Farm an done with it. I never 
 thought to see myself looked on as a burden 
 to my own son s house ; that I will raise my 
 Ebenezer to say." 
 
 " Nobuddy ever thought of castin things up 
 at you. Now, Mother, you know better than 
 that," said her daughter-in-law. " Dear sakes, 
 if he had only got home, he could manage her; 
 but he won t come till to-morrow. I declare, I 
 don t know which way to turn."
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 271 
 
 " You never did, Maria," the old lady com 
 mented from her chaise. " You was always un- 
 faculized and hen-headed, an so I told Simeon 
 when he first began to keep company with ye. 
 He was headstrong, an hev his own way he 
 would, but he 11 come to repent on it, ef he 
 has n t already." 
 
 " Oh, Granny," cried one of the children, run 
 ning from the house, " there s our Mirandy, 
 she s gone and opened your band-box, and 
 she s tried on your best cap, and is pulling out 
 all your things, and I can t make her stop 
 nohow." 
 
 " Land sakes," said the old lady, excitedly, 
 " ef that child aint exactly like you, Maria, 
 always interferin an meddlin . My best cap ! 
 All that purple taste ! Elnathan, help me outen 
 this shay, an I 11 soon put a bee in her bunnit." 
 
 With this the grandmother actually descended, 
 and hurried into the house with her grandson. 
 
 " Good-night," said Mrs. Butterfield, hurriedly ;
 
 2/2 
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 " you 11 excuse me goin right in, but she s so 
 pudgicky there s no tellin what new notion she 
 may take. If I can only get the door locked, 
 we may coax her to bed. I m bleeged to ye 
 for stoppin , I m sure. Good-night." 
 
 " When a woman will," laughed Colonel Spar- 
 hawk as we once more jolted along. 
 
 " Femina semper mutabile" added Arthur 
 Winthrop. 
 
 " Don t be so superior," begged Mrs. Spar- 
 hawk. " Woman s power to change her mind 
 is one of her most charming qualities. I sup 
 pose if a man had announced his intention of 
 spending the night in a cart, he d have done it, 
 if he d been the death of his entire family." 
 
 We reached the camp just after midnight, a 
 sleepy and demoralized crew. After we reached 
 our tent somebody asked for Miss Alexander. 
 
 " She was not in the cart," said Lucretia, with 
 awful calmness ; " we have gone and left her 
 behind."
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 273 
 
 Mrs. Sparhawk, who was tucking Bevis into 
 bed, made a sudden snatch at something on 
 her pillow. 
 
 It was a letter. 
 
 " She has gone ! " she cried wildly, " gone ! 
 Where is the Colonel? That nasty, ungrateful, 
 theatrical little cat has eloped ! " 
 
 18
 
 274 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 WHAT BETTY SAYS. 
 
 "SHE is a nasty, ungrateful, romantic little 
 idiot ! " declared Mrs. Sparhawk for the fortieth 
 time since Miss Alexander s surprising escapade 
 had been discovered the night before. " I 
 thought she acted odd and dumpy and unlike 
 herself, and all the time it seems that she was 
 mooning over that lackadaisical loon of a George 
 Dexter. Well, I wash my hands of her." 
 
 " My dearest," said the Colonel, who made 
 one of the small group by the camp-fire who 
 listened to this tirade, " my dearest, pardon 
 me ; but, having taken a young lady from her 
 parents protection and assumed the care of her 
 ourselves, we cannot, I think, throw off the 
 responsibility so lightly. I feel it my duty 
 to get a horse and go to the Gorge at once,
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 275 
 
 and I think, love, that you ought to accompany 
 me." 
 
 " Indeed, limkin, I shall do no such thing. 
 I never want to set eyes upon her deceitful face 
 again. To think how she apparently fell in with 
 all my plans, and all the time she was meeting 
 this idiot on his eternal bicycle. I wonder if 
 they eloped on the bicycle, by the bye?" 
 
 " What docs her letter say ? " asked the 
 Colonel. " Just read it to me once more, my own." 
 
 " Oh," returned Mrs. Sparhawk, airily, " I 
 don t know where her nasty letter is, I m sure. 
 I dare say the children have it. She hoped I 
 would try to forgive her, and indeed she was 
 very unhappy, and she could not bear to de 
 ceive me and the dear Colonel, but there was 
 no other way ; and she and Mr. Dexter had met 
 and arranged everything, and were to be mar 
 ried at the house of the minister last evening. 
 Oh, I have no patience with the little hussy; 
 married at a country parson s house, when she
 
 276 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 might have had the loveliest wedding ever seen 
 in Baltimore ! " 
 
 "But if her parents disapproved?" began 
 Lucretia, mildly. 
 
 " Disapproved ! " cried Mrs. Sparhawk ; " why, 
 child, they ve been angling for George Dexter 
 ever since Annie was in pinafores." 
 
 " But I think she was very unhappy at home," 
 ventured Lucretia. 
 
 " Bosh ! " exclaimed Mrs. Sparhawk ; " how 
 that girl has imposed on you! Her parents 
 idolize her. She has n t had a wish ungratified 
 since she was born." 
 
 " The long and short of the matter," said the 
 Colonel, " is that she is a weak, sentimental, 
 sensational young woman, who longs to emulate 
 the heroines of her favorite romances ; so she 
 posed for a persecuted and unhappy maiden, 
 and really almost cheated herself into the belief 
 that she was one. Now, my dear, I m off to 
 the Gorge to see her if I can."
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 277 
 
 " Don t bring her back," cried his wife ; " I 
 will positively not see her. Think," she added, 
 with an air of severe virtue, " of what an example 
 to set the children ! " 
 
 " Lucretia," I asked, " did she confide in you, 
 and tell you that she was very miserable, and 
 that her heart would break if she did not speak 
 to somebody? " 
 
 " Why, yes," admitted Lucretia, with a some 
 what injured air; " how did you know, Betty? " 
 
 " Because she said the same to me, and I 
 carried a note from him, the circus day." 
 
 " She confided in me, too," said Emily Dud 
 ley, grimly. 
 
 " That is why she persisted in wearing a trav 
 elling dress last night," broke forth Mrs. Spar- 
 hawk, once more ; " and to think of the way I 
 put myself out for the girl. I in sure that I 
 wrote and invited her here the very day that 
 I found out that Mr. Hamlin was old Judge 
 Hamlin s nephew. I Ve been positively indecent
 
 278 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 in the bold-faced way I Ve made opportunities 
 for her. The Colonel has scolded me for it un 
 mercifully. Oh, you need not open your lovely 
 gray eyes so wide, Miss Betty ; I can see through 
 a millstone ; I know where he has always been, 
 when I did n t positively send him to Annie. 
 Well, you may have him now, child. I shall not 
 play the part of meddlesome Matty any longer." 
 
 As she spoke she tossed aside some bits of 
 an envelope she had been destroying, and rising, 
 moved slowly away, sweeping off with her long 
 gown Emily s embroidered crewels which lay in 
 a tiny basket on the grass. For a moment 
 nobody spoke, but I felt all eyes upon my face. 
 My cheeks glowed like hot coals, and my heart 
 seemed to stop beating. 
 
 "Meddlesome Matty, I should say!" spoke 
 out Josephine, spitefully; "what on earth does 
 the woman mean? Her glasses must have magic 
 in them, for she certainly sees more than the 
 rest of us."
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 279 
 
 " I don t know that she does," said Emmy 
 Dudley, coolly; "there are none so blind as 
 those You know the rest." 
 
 "You needn t trouble to explain," said Jo 
 sephine, frigidly, rising and stalking off with her 
 head in the air. 
 
 " I don t see what s the trouble with Jo 
 sephine," said Emmy, threading her needle; 
 " I m sure it is none of her funeral." 
 
 Mrs. Winthrop kindly reached over and gave 
 my hand a squeeze under her shawl, but I could 
 not thank her. I could not speak at all. My 
 only desire was to get away from them all ; to 
 be by myself. I could only bless the fate which 
 had ordained that only that little circle of 
 women had been about the fire when Mrs. 
 Sparhawk dropped her bomb-shell. 
 
 I rose and fled anywhere to be away from 
 them all. I could not go to the tent, for Mrs. 
 Sparhawk was there. I crossed the road to the 
 meadow. I would have liked to climb the
 
 2 So A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 mountain and keep on and on, and never come 
 back any more. I kept saying over and over 
 to myself: " They thought I liked him. They 
 all thought I liked him." 
 
 It actually seemed to me as if I should die of 
 the horrible shame of it all. Suddenly I heard 
 a puffing and panting close behind me. 
 
 " Oh," said Rodney s voice, " I saw you 
 agoing to walk, so I knew you d want me to 
 come too." 
 
 " No, Rodney," I said, " I am going too far. 
 You must not come. You 11 be too tired." 
 
 " Then you can carry me a pick-a-back," 
 persisted Rodney, cheerfully. " Besides, I d 
 rather go, and I just as lief as not." 
 
 I gave the child my hand, not very pleasantly, 
 and made my hasty steps agree better with his. 
 After all, there was no harm in Rodney. His 
 eyes did not pry. 
 
 " I 11 tell you sumpin ," he casually confided ; 
 " Mr. Hamlin is up here somewhere, he and Bob."
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 2 8l 
 
 "What do you mean?" I demanded fiercely, 
 my cheeks flushing more hotly than ever. 
 
 He would think, they would think, I had 
 followed him. 
 
 " Come back at once, Rodney," I said. "We 
 will not go a step farther." 
 
 I turned and was hastening back, dragging 
 the reluctant Rodney after me, when suddenly 
 I saw Mr. Hamlin, with his fishing-rod, breaking 
 his way out of the alder bushes by the brook. 
 I drew the child down behind a friendly bowlder, 
 and hid myself. 
 
 " Don t you speak or move, Rodney Spar- 
 hawk, till he has gone by," I whispered. 
 
 "Why not?" asked Rodney, hoarsely; "I 
 want to see his fishes. Mamma told Papa he 
 was a catch. \Vhat is a catch?" 
 
 " She could not have said that, Rodney." 
 
 "She did," persisted the child; "she said, 
 When his uncle dies he will be a great catch. 
 What did she mean?"
 
 2 82 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 A sudden light broke over me. How stupid 
 I had been ! Mrs. Sparhawk s graciousness to 
 Mr. Hamlin had all been after she had learned 
 his relationship to the rich uncle in Baltimore. 
 If she had only heard that story that I heard in 
 the old graveyard, she would not have wanted 
 Miss Alexander to marry him. She would have 
 let him alone, and not said horrible things to 
 me, and perhaps 
 
 " Ow ! " said Rodney ; "I m a-goin to sneeze." 
 
 " Rodney Sparhawk," I whispered fiercely, 
 " don t you dare to sneeze. If you do I 11 
 never play with you again, nor tell you another 
 story in all my life." 
 
 Mr. Hamlin came nearer, whistling " How 
 Can I Leave Thee," very much off key. He 
 was just opposite our bowlder now, and, as 
 bad luck would have it, he stopped whistling. 
 Rodney s small face was a tangle of twists 
 and wrinkles, as he vainly tried to overcome 
 his desire to sneeze.
 
 A WOODLAA T D WOOING. 283 
 
 " A choo ! " said Rodney, loudly. " There, 
 Miss Betty, I could n t help it. I could n t, 
 truly now." 
 
 Mr. Hamlin stepped around the corner of the 
 rock. 
 
 " I m sorry you ve taken cold, Miss Betty," 
 he said, " but very glad to see you. I wanted 
 to speak to you away from the camp." 
 
 " It was Rodney who sneezed," I said stiffly ; 
 " nobody but Rodney sneezes so loudly as that. 
 Come, Rodney, your mother will want you." 
 
 " Oh, no, she won t," replied Rodney. " She 
 told me to stay ever so far off while she was 
 packing." 
 
 " You may take my fishing-rod and catch a 
 little trout. Miss Betty and I will wait for you 
 here," said Mr. Hamlin, generously. 
 
 " Indeed he cannot, Mr. Hamlin," I cried. 
 " Rodney is too little to go to the brook alone. 
 Are you crazy? " 
 
 " Not now, but I may be if you won t listen
 
 284 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 to me. See here, Rodney, I have a secret to 
 tell Miss Betty, and " 
 
 " I do not want to hear it," I cried, rising. 
 " I detest secrets." 
 
 " But you must hear it," he said suddenly, 
 very white in the face. " Rodney, wait for us 
 over by that tree." 
 
 " I d just as lief stay," said Rodney, obligingly. 
 " I like to hear secrets, too." 
 
 " Rodney," exclaimed Mr. Hamlin, desper 
 ately, " if you 11 go and sit under the apple-tree 
 five minutes, I 11 give you a dollar." 
 
 " Honest? " asked the child. 
 
 " Of course, I give you my word." 
 
 " All right," said Rodney, and reluctantly 
 departed. 
 
 I felt as if my last support had left me as he 
 stumbled away through the sweet fern. 
 
 " I must go," I protested ; " some other time 
 will do " 
 
 " No other time will do," he said. " I am
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 285 
 
 going home to-morrow. Betty, Mrs. Sparhawk 
 said that you were going to marry Arthur Win- 
 throp. Is it true?" 
 
 " I am not going to marry anybody," I re 
 turned hotly. " I hate all this talk about marry 
 ing, as if everybody were crazy, and there were 
 nothing else worth thinking of." 
 
 "Oh, Betty," he said eagerly, "oh, Betty, 
 Betty, don t you know how I love you? Don t 
 you know how I vc loved you all summer, 
 always, ever since I was born? Betty, it cannot 
 be that you won t come to love me a little " 
 
 " I came back," broke in the cheerful voice of 
 Rodney, " because there s a toad down there, 
 and I want something to poke him with. Any 
 picked stick would do, or your fish-pole, Mr. 
 Hamlin." 
 
 " Betty," said Mr. Hamlin, desperately, " I 
 love you utterly, but I hereby resign all hope 
 of telling you so out of hearing of the Sparhawk 
 children. It is fate. Plainly, and before this 
 witness, will you marry me, Betty?"
 
 286 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 He had quite stopped smiling, and he held 
 both my hands in spite of Rodney. Under his 
 breath he said, 
 
 " For Heaven s sake, Betty, give me an answer 
 before we go back to that staring camp." 
 
 " If you marry him," piped the ever-ready 
 Rodney, " then I s pose he 11 marry you, and 
 you 11 have rice thrown into your ears and 
 down your neck, as my Aunt Helen did. Is 
 she goin to marry you, Mr. Hamlin?" 
 
 " I don t know, Rodney," said Mr. Hamlin ; 
 " ask her." 
 
 "Are you goin to, Miss Betty?" asked the 
 tormenter. 
 
 " I don t know, Rodney," I began stiffly. 
 My lover s anxious eyes were on me, and I 
 weakly ended, " But I think I am." 
 
 Then it was that Mr. Hamlin oh, dear! I 
 have promised to call him Jack, and what will 
 Bob say; what will he say! proved equal to 
 the emergency. I may as well tell it all, for I 
 never could show Bobby this chapter, anyway ;
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 but without a word of warning he caught Rod 
 ney s Tam-o -Shanter by the edge and pulled it 
 completely over the poor fellow s face, and then 
 he took me in his arms like a flash, and I could 
 not help it if he did kiss me like a young 
 tornado. 
 
 " Oh, stop ! " gurgled Rodney, as, half crying, 
 he extricated himself from his cap; "that is n t 
 any fair." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Rodney," Mr. Hamlin 
 said with the greatest gravity, " but you see I 
 got hold of the edge of your cap instead of my 
 own all by mistake." 
 
 " I don t care," protested Rodney, looking 
 abused ; " I don t like mistakes." 
 
 " Nor I, Rodney," said I, with an attempt at 
 propriety. 
 
 "Very well," rejoined my shameless lover, 
 without looking in the least penitent; "I ll 
 never do it again, Betty by mistake." 
 
 I laughed a little. It was all so wonderful,
 
 2 88 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 and I was so very happy. Rodney joined 
 boisterously in my laughter, without knowing 
 why he laughed. 
 
 We stood there in the damp meadow among 
 the brambles, with Rodney eager and watchful 
 by our side. Was ever a love-making more 
 prosaic? Had it not been for Mr. Hamlin s 
 eyes one could not have guessed that it was a 
 love-making at all. We stood there in the foggy 
 morning and regarded each other half whimsi 
 cally. The whole thing was so funny, so lacking 
 in poetry and sentiment. 
 
 " I cannot think what Bob will say," I said at 
 length. " I always loved Bob more than all the 
 world ; and you know we were to keep house 
 in Mexico." 
 
 " You can do that still," he smiled; "only 
 now Bob will be the boarder, and I shall be 
 the householder." 
 
 " Come," urged Rodney, " if you Ve settled 
 your talkin , do come and let s poke the toad."
 
 A WOODLAND WOOING. 
 
 289 
 
 " Our talking is only begun," replied Mr. 
 Ilamlin, swinging the child to his shoulders; 
 " but we have our lifetime in which to finish it. 
 I can afford to be patient for a little now ; and 
 after all, I might not have had a chance to 
 speak to you, my Betty, if Rodney had not 
 sneezed." 
 
 And we all went to poke the toad. 
 
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